


Wherever I Go

by momopichu



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Angst, Comfort, Death Gods, Explicit Language, Happy Birthdays, Helpful Hackers, I'm an ass, I'm trying, M/M, More Pianos!, Murder, Photographs, Reaper76 Week, Soldier Gabriel Reyes, Wight Ripper Jack, and insect repellent, monkeeeeeys, text, very tiny small smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-17 16:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9332792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momopichu/pseuds/momopichu
Summary: For Reaper76 Week.





	1. Silence is Golden.

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 - "How we were" History/Decay  
> Woo hoo! I did another piano-related piece cause I couldn't think of anything better :p  
> -[Young and Beautiful, Lana Del Rey, played by The Theorist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=57YkGFK7CDA)  
> -[Closer, The Chainsmokers, played by Costantino Carrara](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n1yS7WdYLZ8)  
> 

[ May 3rd, 2076 - Watchpoint: Switzerland ]

“I thought you said you had asses to lick.”

Slender fingers stopped mid-dance on polished wooden keys. For a moment Jack was tempted to just ignore the voice and keep playing. It had been so long since he had touched a piano, and upon finding the abandoned black and white creature in the back of the storage room, he had given into temptation and sunk into the ebony chair. It was awhile before he could reorient himself but once the first notes struck, the melody soon came rushing back. It was like a dance one never truly forgot. Soon he found the song spinning in the air like a child’s spinning top, destined to twirl until stopped by unsatisfied hands.

And it seems the unsatisfied ones had found him.

“The meeting’s in half an hour, I still have time… Gabriel.”

He wouldn’t bite the bait, he told himself. He and Gabriel had been at odds for, how long now? He couldn’t remember anymore. When words of friendship had evolved into ones of love and then fallen to those of acquaintances and now… what were they? Disagreeable colleagues? Enemies?

Please... _stop_.

Fingers barely trembling, he resumed his song, trying so _desperately_ to ignore the feeling of brown eyes boring into the back of his head. Sometimes he wondered why he didn’t just pack up and leave, it would be so easy. To hang up his blue mantle, the coat of the Strike-Commander, branded with the insignia of Overwatch, the world’s guardians. _Guardians_. He snorted internally, they were no more than diplomats, trying to ease tensions in a world insisting on spiralling out of their control. When had the boy from Indiana given up? What started as a desire to get out of the endless blinding fields of gold had landed him in crumbling towns of grey, broken homes and left behind treasures to be picked up by those desperate enough to brave the rivers of blood winding through the ruins. ‘Peace was around the corner!’ They never told him peace meant sitting in an unseen gilded cage, it’s golden colours only a pale comparison of the fields that came before.

Tapering fingers beat off rhythms of chords, and when had his playing resembled that of a marching soldier? Stiff and morbid, he furrowed his brow, trying to ease the song into something gentler, something softer. He found himself somewhere in between. With one hand, conducting something akin to a funeral march and the other, twirling as if tied to tissue-thin veils, their pale colours curving in the air much like how reflections blur in the dimpled surface of a pond. Better than before, at least.

…

Gabriel watched from where he lounged against against a dusty bookcase, it’s metal frame sending piercing waves of cold up his arm, even through the thick material of his hoodie. For a moment, he let his eyes slide close. Jack’s tunes had changed, they used to be bright, filled with sunshine and gentle winds. Now they were still, a monotonous black and white that dripped with unspoken words. Blinking his eyes open, he shook his beanied head roughly. Jack’s songs always had a profound effect and despite Gabriel’s latest attempts at shutting the blond out, the melody had begun to seep beneath his skin. He envisioned them like claws, hooking deep and gouging bloody scars where he could not see.

Perhaps that was not their intention. But he was too far gone to see that now.

Turning quickly, he made to leave the storage room. Fleeing as if he was being chased by words the blond could only convey in a melody woven by trembling hands.

 

_Will you still love me…when I’m no longer young and beautiful?_

_Will you still love me…when I’ve got nothing but my aching soul?_

 

Roughly, Gabriel pulled his beanied down and around his ears, trying to shut out the song, the blond, Jack.

 

_Will you still love me, when I’m no longer beautiful?_

_Will you still love me, when I’m not young and beautiful?_

 

* * *

 

[ November 13th, 2081 - Unknown bar in Indiana ]

He didn’t know what possessed him to come here. Perhaps it was the prospect of seeing the endless fields of gold. A pity he had come so late in the year. Reaper sighed, breath a grating croak under his mask. The smoke that wafted around his body like clinging cats hung in the air, dancing with the pirouetting flakes of snow, the land before him was a pristine white for as far as he could see. He really ought to report in, Sombra and Widowmaker were probably out of their minds with worry - or at least the former would be, the latter probably couldn’t care less. And he wanted to take that job for Talon too… whatever it was again… what was it?

He scratched his hooded head, the mission was something… interesting, something about raiding some watch-- OH FOR. He whirled angrily, his black coat flapping around his ankles in a wide ark. Whoever was making that _racket_ better stop, right now! Or _he_ \- the Reaper - was going to tear their soul from their body, one ghostly limb at a time.

Rounding the empty street, he found the backdoor to a bar left open. Just a slit, but it was enough for the noise from within to waft out. At this distance he could finally make out the noise was that of a piano, the notes rounded and slightly numb - as if the instrument had been tuned one too many times - but still strong. Glancing down at the door’s handle, he narrowed red eyes at the sight of the broken lock. Whoever was playing the piano had broken into the bar. And what kind of idiot would break into a shitty bar, in the middle of nowhere, just to play an instrument that should probably be put out of commission?

Gripping the handle with a clawed hand, Reaper entered the dark bar, closing the door behind him as an afterthought - the bar owner didn’t need to spend the morning sweeping snow out of his shop on top of finding out someone had broken in.

Smoke swirling about his legs to muffle his steps, Reaper crept forward in the shadows of the bar. The tune was heavy, powerful, a careless hand accompanied by a rigid counterpart. It was strange, the melody wasn’t happy per se, but it wasn’t outright dark. It felt like...a hope crushed too many times to be strong. Reaper jerked himself back from rounding the corner of the kitchen. Around him, staccato beats pressed against his ears, stomping with powerful steps, accusatory questions thrown in the air without ever receiving an answer.

In his mind he could see golden fields, but they were different, shadowed with a dusty grey, pulled left and right by strong winds that couldn’t care less if they were hurting the graceful stalks. Storm clouds rushed overhead, a bright sun barely able to get its rays upon the ground before being shovelled off by puffs of rain-filled grey.

Reaper tightened his hands against the doorframe of the kitchen. The last time he had heard songs this rich, was - what he liked to think - a lifetime ago. They had no place here, not in this darkening world. Taking a deep breath, he roughly pushed himself away from the doorway and entered the bar area.

His red eyes took in the sight of a tossed aside leather jacket, the blue, red and white piece adorning the back of a rickety wooden chair. Beside it was a heavy pulse rifle and a belt of biotic emitters, laid there as if flung aside to be forgotten. Upon a raised stage, a piano of crusting yellowy wood stood erect, proudly singing the song directed by a man whose hair had long been bleached as white as the snow outside. Milky blue eyes stared sightlessly at wrinkled fingers, free from thick red gloves that littered the edges of the stage with a discarded crimson visor.

The soldier took no notice of the threat standing so close, opting instead to continue his melody.

 

_So baby pull me closer in the backseat of your Rover,_

_That I know you can’t afford._

 

The Reaper - or more accurately - _Gabriel_ , rolled his eyes. Trust the boy scout to be sentimental and play songs that weren’t even in the loop anymore.

 

_Bite that tattoo on your shoulder,_

_Pull the sheets right off the corner,_

 

Dissipating the smoke around his legs, his boots thudded against the wooden floor of the bar. Nearing the stage, he pulled a chair from a nearby table before spinning it so that he was sat with legs apart, straddling the back of the chair, facing the stage and his arms crossed over the wooden backboard.

 

_Of the mattress that you stole,_

_From your roommate back in Boulder._

 

Other than a quirked eyebrow from the old soldier, there was no other indication that the man noticed nor cared that he had gained an audience - even if it _was_ a one man audience.

 

_We ain’t ever getting older_

_No we ain’t ever getting older._

 

Blind and old he might be, but Jack still managed to end the song with a flourish. Deep notes thrumming through the empty bar and reverberating down the street. With a sigh, the old soldier broke the spell by plonking an arm across the keys and turning to face Gabriel.

“You’re getting sappier,” Gabriel commented.

“It’s called romantic,” Jack grunted “It’s a period in the artistic movement, look it up.”

“Good luck convincing me The Chainsmokers were romantic.”

The old soldier barked a laugh, shoulders shaking with the brief break in his rigid facade. Smiling, he turned back to the piano, fingers already questing for the right keys.

“You’re also freer.”

Jack paused, fingers barely settled on the wooden pieces, his brow furrowed together in a slight frown. Gritting his teeth, he took a deep breath before letting it out, shoulders drooping with the motion before he brought up the next song.

“None of us are free, Gabriel.”


	2. The Ripper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - "In His Shoes” - Role/Body swapping.  
> Jack the Ripper is stalking the streets and he's leaving behind a pile of corpses.  
> Who're you gonna call?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring WightRipper!Jack and Gabriel Reyes as 'The Soldier' :p  
> I hope you guys like it!

Cold. Dark. _Hungry_.

Always hungry.

Defiler of the pure. The man in white.  _Jack the Ripper_.

The last was the only name he remembered fondly and kept. It suited him well - what he had become. Dressed in an ankle-length white hooded-coat, a heavy pulse rifle smoking - always smoking - held in clawed hands. He looked over his newest victim with ice-blue eyes. Another Overwatch agent stubborn enough to think they could stand up to the Ripper, another one that had thought they could get away with betraying _him_. Non-too gently, he kicked the body over to look into the blank, sightless eyes of the woman. His pulse rifle had torn a hole in her abdomen, blood seeped past her clothes, leaking between her back and the floor, a never ending red tide that had finally broken through the walls of a dam.

With practised grace, Jack leaned forward and gently drew a clawed hand over her throat. The grey-ivory claw sunk in without resistance, leaving a line so straight it looked as if it had been drawn with a ruler. From the gap wafted a tendril of white.

It drifted into the air, settling much like a haze would over an empty street. Carefully, he lifted his mask and visor away from his face. Two scars cut diagonally across what was once a beautiful face, the larger one slicing from his forehead, down across his nose. A smaller one had cut right through his lip, leaving his mouth in a permanent snarl. With a wave and a twirl of his hand, Jack curled the woman’s soul around his finger, much like how a weaver would wind string onto a spinning shaft.

The soul gathered about the clawed digit, coalescing into a small ball of white with a bright blue core. Quickly trampling down the disgust that came with every time he was about to devour a soul, Jack shoved the white ball into his mouth, his finger holding the struggling thing in place until he had swallowed. It felt like swallowing a large cotton ball - not that he had had much experience in that particular cuisine when he was alive. Soft in some places white annoyingly prickly in others, the soul was pushed down his throat before being torn apart to be absorbed into his body. His blue eyes pinched shut, a wince spread across his usually emotionless face as the woman’s memories - embedded in her soul - replayed in his mind like a cinematic record.

He saw the woman’s childhood - of dinners sat around a candlelit table, a kindly mother on one side and a stoic father at the other. They took her hands and smiled, said something he forgot within a second before separating and resuming dinner. He watched silently as she was dropped off for her first day of school - running away with a hasty wave to join a group of giggling girls. Everyone greeted each other, the air was filled with nervous energy, they couldn’t wait for the first bell. He watched her get approached by a man in a suit - he passed her a folder with the bold words ‘Classified’ across it’s surface. If she did the job right, she would have enough money to give her father a proper funeral and tend to her hospitalized mother. He watched as she dropped out of school - joined the ranks of blue, met a Commander whose hair glowed like fields of gold, soft cornflower blue eyes turned to her in greeting.

Jack screamed, tearing himself from the memories that were now branded in his mind. Burning against the inside of his skull where they had left their mark. He stumbled back, clutching at his eyes as his body lashed out with white whip-like tendrils. He didn’t know how long his outburst lasted, but when he came to, he was crumpled on the ground, clutching his aching chest - where a cold heart no longer beat.

“Hey _guero_. You alright?” came a voice in his ear.

“I’m _fine_ Sombra,” He snarled

“You don’t _look_ fine.” The hacker commented. Jack looked up to find a camera attached to the ceiling looking down at him. It tilted it’s mechanical body much as if a head would cock to the side in worry.

“Just gimme the next target,” He grumbled.

“You sure you can handle it?” She asked even though he could distinctly hear the click-clacks of a keyboard being tapped away.

“Yes.”

“Info is….sent.” There was a final click. “Your next target is in Dorado.”

“Dorado?” Jack asked with a quirked brow.

“Some of my guys in Los Muertos are running wild,” she admitted sheepishly “I was hoping you could pull them back into line…?”

Jack huffed. Rubbing his forehead with a tired hand before replacing his mask and visor. He had a mind to order the hacker to stop sending him to handle such trivial matters but bit back the statement. He could use some better quality souls, and by ‘better quality’ he meant that they were so shit he wouldn’t have felt even the slightest bit of guilt to have ripped them from their physical bodies.

“Fine, fine.” He waved a hand in the air as if dismissing some foul smell “I’ll get it done. Just have the following target ready.” As an afterthought, he added “And have my private funds transferred to Mercy Hospital, patient number 13308.”

“Consider it done,” The hacker replied, a pause. “You ever think about doing something other than eat souls?”

“I’m _Jack the Ripper_ ,” He stated plainly. “A psychotic, blood-loving, soul-devouring demon.” He shrugged and stretched his hands outward as if he was embracing an unseen stage “I have a reputation to maintain.”

He vanished, body dissipating like fog under the morning sun.

“I didn’t get to ask him about the whole ‘demon-wearing-white-and-sending-unfortunate-people-money’ thing.” Sombra grumbled.

 

…

 

“ _Please_ tell me you’ve found him,” Gabriel mumbled, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Torn open abdomen and a slit across the neck,” Ana replied, flicking through her holopad. “It’s the Ripper alright.”

“Jack _is not_ the Ripper.”

The sniper sighed deeply before bringing a hand up to massage the creases etched into her forehead. “Gabriel…” she began tiredly. They’ve had this conversation… how many times now? “The evidence suggests that he’s lost his mind. He’s ruthlessly attacking former Overwatch agents and leaving their bodies like some grotesque art piece to be gawked at by the masses.”

“And I’ve told you those ‘ _agents_ ’ are traitors.” Gabriel argued “Jack’s only going after those that brought down Overwatch, he’s not hurting anyone else!”

“Brutally tearing apart a body and then leaving them to be found by the public isn’t hurting anybody?” She demanded “Gabriel! You know better than anyone the panic and chaos that such actions can lead to!”

He fell silent at that - there was no denying the old sniper’s words. Gabriel remembered _that_ day clearly, after all. He had been the first to find out about Talon and the other sleeper agents hidden deep within Overwatch’s ranks. He had attempted to warn the Strike-Commander but found that Jack had already known. When asked why he didn’t do anything about it, the blond had looked at him sadly and told him that he believed they could… they could _change_ . Jack had wanted to use his words and actions to inspire the enemy, convert them so that they would become _true_ Overwatch agents.

His naive hope was crushed when the enemy had lured them both into a trap and set the entire Zurich base up to explode. In the aftermath, Gabriel had woken up in a sobbing Jack’s arms. The blond was _wailing_ , clutching at his bleeding chest while white smoke bled from his many wounds as, beside him, Angela Ziegler had tried in vain to heal away his injuries. The former Strike-Commander had snarled at her to leave and never show herself before him again. Turning back to a barely conscious Gabriel, he had leaned down to brush scarred lips against his forehead.

“ _I’ll make them pay._ ” He had promised, before disappearing in white fog.

Not a year later and there was a flood of media reports all claiming that a terrible murderer had resurfaced. Jack the Ripper, they called him. Because his victims all had one thing in common with those of the original victims of the murderer of Whitechapel. They all had their abdomens torn apart and their necks sliced open.

Jack had made sure their bodies were easy to find, strategically placing them in areas with the most desired effect. Gabriel sighed. _Dammit_. It wasn't fair the former poster-boy and chief diplomat of Overwatch knew best how to appeal to a crowd - _no_ \- a  **mob**  … even if it was the complete opposite of reassuring the people.

Pushing himself to his feet, he reached for his shotguns and flicked them open to check the chambers. Satisfied that they were full, he grabbed his ammo belt and the backpack containing his effects, including an emergency box of biotic emitters and… a broken blue visor. He brought the piece out now before hanging it on his right ear. The cracked screen flickered into being, a jagged line of text stretching across the broken blue surface.

[ Welcome back Strike-Commander Morrison ]

Gabriel sighed. Without sparing the watching Ana a glance, he grabbed the tacky blue, red and white jacket off the back of his chair and wrapped it around his body and kevlar armour. It was a bit tight around the shoulders and his chest was too broad to be able to pull the zips together - but oh well. It had originally belonged to Jack, something the blond had bought spontaneously on one of the few times that they had shore leave together. And he was too much of a sentimental fuck to leave it in the ruins of the Zurich base.

“I’ll go check the scene out,” Gabriel said to Ana, fixing his trademark beanie to his head and adjusting the woollen piece so that it was snug. “I’ll report in if I find anything.”

“Gabriel.”

“What?” He snapped, turning to the regal woman, sat in a rotting wooden chair as if it was the most luxurious throne in the whole world.

“I know you don’t like to hear thi--”

“I don’t.”

“--s but the Jack you knew is _gone_ .” Meeting his blazing brown eyes, Ana continued, undeterred. “He’s killing out of blind revenge. That’s not the Jack _I_ knew or the one that _you_ loved. Yes, I said it - and no. Don’t try and deny it Gabriel.” Holding a hand up to cut off his protest. “I know you still love him, so as a friend I’m telling you this now. _End it_ . Before he can kill anymore, before he drops further away, before he becomes the very _demon_ he always hated becoming.”

Gabriel grit his teeth, hands balled into fists at his side as he turned his head away from the old woman. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, he told himself. What would he see, he wondered? A strict and commanding queen? Perhaps a tired elder who just wanted to rest? Or worse… An empathetic friend, whose single eye was filled to the brim with understanding and pity?  It was with these questions in mind that he reached for the doorknob before letting himself out, momentarily pausing in the gap to answer the elderly sniper.

“Yeah...alright…I’ll see what I can do.”

“That’s all I ask, Gabriel.”

 

* * *

 

Gabriel tried unsuccessfully to hide the grimace under a hand. The Ripper’s newest victim was 39 year old Taylor Antoinette, formerly a student at the College of Arts in Plymouth, United Kingdom, she had dropped out after receiving a questionable referral before being transferred into Overwatch’s department for public affairs. Like all the other victims before her, her stomach had been punctured by numerous rounds of pulse-fire ammunition. At her neck was a thin line that bled sluggishly. Not for the first time, Gabriel shivered as he glanced at the ominous line that looked more black than red.

He would’ve liked to ask Jack why he bothered slitting their necks if the victims were already dead from blood loss. But glancing around at the state of the room, he wondered if such questions weren’t better left unanswered.

The Ripper’s name wasn’t just given to Jack because he copied the methods of the 1888 murderer, but because the demon seemed to lose control after killing his victims, tearing apart the rooms he was in. Grunting as he rose to his feet, knees creaking - Gabriel wasn’t a young man anymore - he surveyed the room. There was not a surface that wasn’t covered in deep, whip-like gashes. Wallpapers peeled off the walls as if they had been shredded by bear claws, metal appliances around the room were torn in half like someone had taken a chainsaw to them.

Gabriel paused at the sight of the camera hanging in the corner of the room.

The mechanical piece had somehow escaped unscathed and as Gabriel watched, the camera lifted its lensed head and tilted itself questioningly. A light blinked into being under the camera, flashing red a few times before reverting to a steady green.

Before Gabriel could make sense of this new development, his visor’s screen flickered ominously. The blue surface was covered in noise, zeroes and ones flashing across the screen. He cursed, reaching for the earpiece when suddenly, a lilac skull flashed across the screen.

“Hola Soldado.” A feminine voice came through the earpiece. “You know, it’s not my place but... the jacket _really_ doesn’t suit you.”

“Cut to the chase, who are you and what do you want?” Gabriel demanded, unconsciously snuggling his shoulders deeper into what was once Jack’s favourite jacket.

“Soy un Sombra,” the woman introduced herself, cheeky voice filled with mischief. “I know you’re looking for the Ripper and I thought well… I would help you out.”

A smiley face flashed across his visor and Gabriel nearly tore it off of his ear at the absurdity of it. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down. If what the woman was saying was true then…

“I’ve heard of Sombra. You’re the hacker working for Talon, aren’t you?” Gabriel asked.

“Mierda!” Sombra cursed “I don’t work _for_ Talon, I work _with_ Talon.”

“Forgive me if I don’t see the difference,” Gabriel growled.

“Apology accepted,” the hacker acknowledged “Anyway, I thought I would help you out since you obviously care so much about the Ripper.”

“Like hell you would help a complete stranger you’ve never met.”

There was a harsh raspy sound over the comms, as if Sombra was sighing deeply. “Okay listen…” she began “The Ripper is a ‘friend’ of mine. I help him find his targets and in return he helps me gather intel and do odd jobs now and then. Lately, we’ve been trying to uncover more of the uh...consp..con? Con-something--”

“Conspiracy?” Gabriel provided.

“Yes! Conspiracy! Behind Overwatch,” Sombra piqued, she seemed to be clapping - if Gabriel was hearing it right. Her voice suddenly turned glum, “But the deeper we go into the conspiracy, well… Let’s just say things got dark real fast and _guero_ ’s not handling it well.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes, his brow snapping together into a frown. “What do you mean he’s not handling it well? What’s happening to Jack!?”

“Okay this is going to sound _really_ weird, but bear with me.” Sombra said “You see that line on the victim’s throat?”

Gabriel darted a look to the corpse lying motionless in the quiet room, the black line across her neck was a stark contrast against the paling skin. “Yeah?”

“After Jack draws that line, he takes something from the victim’s body. In the simplest of terms, he takes the soul.”

“The ‘soul’.” Gabriel repeated - he really didn’t need this right now--

“I know what you’re thinking!” Sombra said immediately. “But hear me out! I said that was in simple terms. In more complex terms - and note, this is still the toned down version - Jack absorbs the energy embedded in chemicals that support the human body. When he does so, it triggers a kind of chemical reaction inside his body and he ‘sees’ the victim’s memories.”

“He can see other people’s memories!?”

“What are our thoughts and memories if not a mixture of signals, currents and chemicals flashing in a designated and ordered manner along neurons?” Sombra asked. “What he experiences is a replication of this process. Through this, he experiences the victim’s memories. But like I said, lately the victims he’s been feeding on have been… ‘darker’ so to speak. He’s becoming unstable.” She paused. “He didn’t use to rip up the room like that you know…”

Gabriel jerked up to take in the sight of the room. Sombra was right, now that he thought about it. When the first victim of Jack the Ripper had appeared, they were just that - victims with a torn open abdomen and a slit across the neck, strategically placed in spots to garner media attention. Nothing more. But as the murders progressed, bodies were increasingly left lying about and there started to be claw-like marks along the walls where each body was. Each time a new corpse was found in the same way, the marks in the immediate environment grew in intensity until each time a victim turned up, the places they were found in were torn up so horribly it was nearly unrecognisable.

This room was no different. Everything was broken, torn apart and shredded as if a demon had blown through in a rage.

 _Jack_ …

“Alright, Sombra.” Gabriel said, gripping the visor to his ear. “I’ll work with you. Where can I find Jack?”

“You will!? I mean--” A cough “-- Of course you will! Right give me a second. The last mission I assigned him to was Dorado, that was about three hours ago. I told him that Los Muertos was going out of control, so he’ll no doubt be roaming the streets looking for them. Think you can handle it?”

“Let’s find out.” Gabriel growled, already planning his move.

“Good Luck, Soldado.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did have more but I cut it off - get it? I cut it...oh for, nevermind...
> 
> Further Notes: Since Gabriel the Reaper was kinda smokey and dark, I envisioned Jack the Ripper as more misty and white.  
> Kinda wanted to keep the contrast though it's hard to describe mist. It's more floaty and insubstantial than smoke.


	3. I Wouldn't Trust Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 - "At your back" - Trust/Betrayal  
> Gabriel doesn't trust Jack. Plot twist; Jack doesn't trust Jack either.  
> Bonus content featuring "D.Va is so done with this sh*t"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a bit carried away with this. So in the end it kind of turned into abit of a self-indulgent piece.  
> The first part follows the r76week prompt but the following part probably doesn't, I'll mark where the bonus content starts.  
> Note: in the Bonus content, Reaper doesn't know who S76 is  
> Enjoy o/

“Reyes, _please_ .” Jack muttered “I need you to _trust_ me.”

Gabriel snorted. He hadn’t trusted Jack in a long time, he didn’t see why he should change that now. It was kind of a surprise when the greying blond had managed to corner him in a less used area of the Swiss Base and although slightly curious, Gabriel had other - more important - things that needed his attention.

“Reyes…” there was a warning tone in Jack’s voice. The way he curled his name around his tongue - like a collar that would hold him. When was the blond going to learn that Gabriel couldn’t be ‘commanded’ like one of his precious agents?

“Save it _commander_ ,” He growled, exaggerating the other’s title. “I don’t have time for this. So why don’t _you_...” He flicked a finger, slapping the blond on his pristine blue breastplate “...go back to your ass licking. And let me go so I can get some _real_ work done - for the both of us.”

Icy blue eyes narrowed dangerously and Gabriel couldn’t help the smirk that stretched across his own features. Cockily, he crossed his arms over his own armoured chest and waited for Jack to move. It would really make his day to see the great Strike-Commander Morrison make way for his less... _favoured_ subordinate. Quirking an eyebrow at the clearly aggravated blond, he waited.

“Dammit Reyes…” Jack muttered, shifting from one foot to the other. Something was clearly bothering him - not that Gabriel could bring himself to care. After Jack had so _happily_ snatched the Strike-Commander position from him, he hadn’t cared about many things. Not the increasingly reckless actions of Blackwatch, not McCree leaving, not the reports and stories painting Overwatch as corrupt, not even… Ana’s death. The world turns on, and it always will. Ignorant of his problems, ignorant of how much pain he would suffer everyday so _someone_ could keep his shining position. He could rise above his own problems Gabriel told himself. He was the only one who could.

The blond still hadn’t moved but he was obviously thinking hard, Gabriel cocked his head as he watched what seems to be a tumbling stream of thoughts crash behind deep blue eyes. Suddenly, the blond straightened, his face hardened - resolute.

“Sorry Gabe.” He said - and Gabriel drew back, stunned. Jack hadn’t called him that ever since they had broken off, nicknames and familiarity tossed aside to adopt the stoic facade that the world needed most. “But you leave me no choice.”

Already thrown off, he wasn’t ready for what Jack did next. The blond rushed into him like an oncoming wave, desperate arms circling around his neck and head to bring him crashing down on chapped lips. Gabriel struggled, trying to pull Jack away from him, trying to get that much needed ‘space’ back. He might as well be trying to push aside a ten ton anvil with how the younger man refused to separate. Pink lips drifted open, a tongue brutally forced its way into Gabriel’s mouth and he couldn’t help the cough as he tried to expel the slick digit.

Jack would not be deterred, pressing their faces harder together, nipping and biting until Gabriel could feel his own mouth swell under the onslaught. Dimly, he was aware that his hands had begun twisting themselves in the Commander’s blue coat, holding the younger man tightly against his chest as he was suddenly reciprocating the heated kiss. _Dammit_ , if Jack wanted to be an ass, well then… Gabriel would oblige. A dark, sunkissed hand worked it’s way up from where it had planted itself at the small of the blond’s back. It roved over Jack’s back, feeling the armour that hung loosely around his frame, the muscles, the body that was somehow smaller than what it used to be and Gabriel couldn’t help wondering - what had happened to Jack? Why was he so thin? His hand reached up, grabbing a fistfull of the blond’s hair before yanking it back viciously. The half whine and moan that broke from his pale lips sent heat coursing through the veins of Gabriel’s body as he leaned in to assault Jack’s throat. At the same time, he couldn’t help peeking at his Commander’s haggard expression, the blue eyes scrunched tight, dark circles ringed possessively around them, the swollen lips that were framed by lines and wrinkles only constant stress could have given.

A guttural snarl tore itself from Gabriel’s throat, bringing his free hand down to grip the meat of Jack’s ass and hoist the single leg up. Another moan - more a muffled wail - tore itself from the blond’s throat as Gabriel half-carried, half-dragged the other man until he was pushed against the railing of a stairwell, the silver bar digging into Jack’s back. He was fucking _light_ too, Gabriel thought dimly - why hadn’t he noticed?

Jack’s hands were fumbling, desperately trying to grab at the hand Gabriel had so unceremoniously used to begin kneading at the blond’s ass. Roughly, the older man snapped his hips forward, brushing their hardening groins together. In retaliation, Jack face-planted into Gabriel’s shoulder, sinking his teeth deep into the armour padding. Heat blossomed throughout him, jolts of lightning spreading wherever he made contact with the Commander’s body, he moved the hand around Jack’s hair to grip the blond by his chin - forcing him into another bruising kiss.

Abruptly, something cold closed around the wrist of his hand still digging into the blond’s ass. Gabriel broke away from Jack’s face, confusion suddenly taking hold as the audible click rang like thunder in his ears before the blond was pushing to stand an arm's-length away. When the older man tried to follow, he found his hand crudely handcuffed to the silver railing.

“Jack! _What the fuck!?_ ” He snarled, trying to break the metal-and-plastic-reinforced-chain. The piece held fast, this wasn’t their usual prevent-gangsters-from-escaping kind of handcuff. This one had been modified to hold aggressive omnics, cybernetically enhanced individuals, even super soldiers.

“I don’t blame you, Gabe.” Jack said, voice hoarse - _broken_. “I wouldn’t trust me either.”

And then he was turning, pelting down the corridor, his blue coat arcing around him.

Gabriel never saw him again.

 

* * *

 

{{ Bonus Content Start }}

 

“Can’t you two just _talk_ to each other?” Gabriel - the _Reaper_ \- growled.

Soldier: 76 and Hana ‘D.Va’ Song looked up from where they were sitting side by side opposite him in the narrow space of the armoured VTOL aircraft. The two newest recruits to the ‘new-Overwatch’ had spent the last hour texting each other when they could have just turned to each other and _said_ something. Gabriel had realised this when their typing and reactions had seemed to synchronize when one or the other’s hands stopped on the tiny hand-held communicator. He thought he’d let it go but the longer he had watched, the more irritated he got.

With arms crossed over his chest, his Reaper regalia smoking in the small confines of the cabin and his ivory mask clasped to his belt, Gabriel shot the two soldiers a withering look through blood-red eyes, hoping it would be enough to deter their antics. Abruptly, D.Va’s slender fingers darted across her communicator and 76’s pinged in response.

“Don’t--” Gabriel started, but the the older soldier was already looking down.

“ _Pffft_ ,” came the muffled laugh from under 76’s mask. Hana smiled in response.

“Okay, that’s it.” Gabriel growled, standing. “Give it.”

“What!?” D.Va exclaimed, clutching the tiny device to her chest. “You can’t just take away our comms like that!”

“I can and I will,” Gabriel retorted, smoke broiling under the edges of his long coat. He stretched out a clawed hand to both soldiers. “Now hand them over and start talking to each other like _civil_ people.”

“And what happens if we get in trouble?” 76 asked calmly.

“You’re already in trouble - with me.” He snapped.

“We’re heading into enemy territory, our craft could be shot down at any time. We’d be separated with no means of communicating with one another.” The white-haired soldier continued.

“You have the comms in your ears.” Gabriel growled.

“And if we can’t talk?” 76 asked. “What if there are enemies close by and we can’t risk getting heard? What then?”

The Reaper narrowed his blazing red eyes at the old soldier lounging in the aircraft’s seat. He was too easy-going in the face of the being that was apparent death, with arms folded across his chest and one leg crossed over the other and tapping in the air to some unknown beat. Gabriel had half a mind to teach the Soldier a lesson but found that he didn’t have a good enough reason to. 76 was right and the Reaper hated it. Gritting his teeth and seething underneath, Gabriel returned to his chair and sank into it, expelling black smoke in all directions. His anger was slightly abated as both soldiers began coughing and waving their hands in the air to disperse the black gas.

“Fine.” He muttered “You can keep your comms. But if I--”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as 76’s fingers flicked across the device and D.Va’s comm pinged in response. The MEKA pilot tried to meet Gabriel’s red eyes but curiosity was soon too much for the growing teenager - she looked down at her device.

Her high pitched laughter was overshadowed by the Reaper’s roar of anger.

 

…

 

“What do you mean the MEKA can’t self-destruct!?” Gabriel roared. Whirling, he unloaded his shotgun clip into the Bastion-unit setting up behind the vulnerable pilot.

“Bunbun took an EMP bullet to her core!” D.Va retorted “I can’t self-destruct her if I can’t communicate with her systems!”

Without waiting for Reaper’s reply, she vaulted over her cover, her Light Blaster was shoved under an oncoming omnic’s chin. The blaster’s pulse pellets tore through the metal plating within seconds. Not even waiting to see where the body fell, she rolled back into cover, ejecting the used clip with practised ease. With a smooth motion, she reloaded her clip, taking the moment of reprieve to look up at the old soldier beside her.

“Yo _appa_! You have a moment?” She yelled over the roar of his heavy pulse rifle.

Soldier: 76 didn’t reply, his tactical visor activated and glowing a bright crimson red in front of his face. Barely registering the brutal recoil that slapped against his shoulder, the old Soldier fired off round after round of pulse-munitions. Each energy filled bullet finding their mark and lancing through steel carapaces. Only when the last of the omnics had collapsed, their white bodies blackened and smoking did 76 turn off his visor and address the MEKA pilot.

“I’m free now,” He said, carelessly ejecting the thermo-clip of his rifle. Flicking out a new clip, he jammed it into the rifle’s chamber, clicking it into place.

The Korean Pilot rolled her eyes. “Bunbun can’t explode. Do you have any ideas?”

He hummed, deep in thought. Their mission had involved only the three of them - Soldier: 76, D.Va and Reaper. The original plan had been to plant D.Va’s MEKA deep within the omnium’s core and remotely self-destruct the machine once they had extracted the intel they needed and were on their way out. But like anything in this world, plans rarely went as well as they hoped.

Reaper, smoking at the edges, threw aside his spent shotguns, resummoning more from the nanites that so greedily clung to his body. Glowing red eyes fixed on the thinking soldier, he made his way over to his teammates. The older soldier was stroking his masked chin as he considered and discarded plans. And for a moment, Gabriel was reminded of a certain _person_. That person looked just as the soldier did now - minus the absolutely ridiculous jacket and facemask - with ideas tumbling behind hidden eyes, calm and calculating - hiding a storm and plans that would no doubt wreak havoc. Savagely, Gabriel shook himself of those thoughts - they had no place here. Not anymore.

“I’ll head back to the core,” 76 finally said. “When you two have gotten the intel and are back on Skyranger. I’ll unload a set of helix rockets at the mech and group up with you guys as it explodes.”

“No go.” Gabriel interrupted, voice harsh. “You won’t clear the blast radius in time.”

“And neither will you,” 76 snapped back. “I’d like to see you shoot the MEKA from 50 meters away with those... _things_.” He gestured vaguely at the Reaper’s shotguns.

“I can shadow-step!” Gabriel retorted.

“Did you ever notice how long it takes for you to materialise?” Soldier snapped “You’ll lose precious time and be crushed by the falling ceiling.” He hoisted his precious pulse rifle over a shoulder. “I can get to Bunbun, blow her up and run back faster than you can shadow-step.” He growled with a final nod (completely ignorant of the fact that he had just addressed the MEKA as Bunbun.)

Reaper’s red eyes blazed at being addressed this way. Unconsciously, he took a step forward, bringing him nose-to-nose with 76. The old soldier did not move, feet planted securely to the floor as he glared at Gabriel through his scarlet visor. Gabriel didn’t want to admit that the old soldier was right, shadow-stepping took large amounts of energy and concentration. If he wanted to blow up the MEKA with his shotguns and then retreat with shadow-step, he didn’t know if he would have the energy to make the run afterwards. A growl rumbled deep in his throat, smoke spiralling into the air from his seething body.

“Okay, okay you two,” D.Va interjected, stepping between both men. “Let’s turn it down a bit. At the rate you two are going, it looks like you’re about to kiss!”

To Gabriel’s surprise, Soldier: 76 seemed to flush a deep red from where pale skin peeked over his visor and mask.

“I mean you can _if you want to_ ,” the pilot went on, a smirk gracing her pink-marked face. “I’m not going to stop you but at least find a roo--”

“Enough Ms. Song!” 76 cut in. He hefted the heavy pulse rifle close to his chest, hands clutched tightly around the handles. Gabriel was glad his own face was covered by his Reaper mask. He didn’t like the idea of having to spend the ride back to base explaining to D.Va why he looked as if he’d just been sucker-punched.

“Good.” D.Va grinned, patting the blushing older soldier on the shoulder. “Now start heading back to the core. Reaper and I will get the intel and meet you back at the Skyranger. After that, it’ll be GG!”

Without another word, Soldier: 76 turned and began heading down the narrow corridor leading back to the omnium’s core. Abruptly, Gabriel’s hand shot forward, glancing off the back of snow-white hair. 76 whirled.

“What are y--”

“Y-You had something in your hair…” Gabriel stammered, clutching his traitorous hand in a bruising grip.

The Soldier stared at him for a long moment, as if Gabriel had just lost his mind. Thinking better about commenting, 76 shook his head before departing.

 

…

 

“What was that just now?” Gabriel asked quietly.

“Hmm? You’re going to have to speak up edgy- _appa_ ,” D.Va replied “I can’t really hear you.”

The MEKA pilot was lying on her back with half of her upper body tucked under the omnium’s central command console as she fiddled with wires and other tiny electronics that one found in such a place. Gently tugging aside a coil of wires, she primed the data-mining device before plunging it’s clawed head into the panel.

“Alright, terminal is being hacked.” She checked her watch “T-60 seconds.” Sliding out from under the console, she fixed Reaper with bright brown eyes “So what were you saying?”

Gabriel dispatched another set of Bastions that were getting a little too close for comfort, his Hellfire shotguns burning through their metal hulls. The machines’ circuits whirled, headlights a flickering red before dropping to the floor dead. He sighed.

“The Soldier…” Gabriel began, how should he even start? _Should_ he even start? He eyed the teenage-soldier lying on the floor and quirking one brown eye up at him. “Why was he um…”

“Embarrassed?” D.Va provided. “Dunno. He never tells me anything.” She pushed herself back under the console.

As if she were avoiding him.

Gabriel roughly hooked a feet around the pilot’s ankle before yanking her out from under the terminal.

“D.Va…” He growled, exasperated.

“You look really tall from down here.” She quipped. “T-30 by the way.”

“Hana, for the last time--”

“Bastions!”

Gabriel swung his shotgun up, clipping the trigger without once sparing a look at his target. His red eyes still fixed on the pilot who was lying on the floor. Unceremoniously, he tossed the spent weapon behind his back before summoning two new shotguns, holding them up beside his head in what he hoped was a menacing pose.

“Alright, alright.” She finally relented “I’ll tell you once we get away from here, deal?”

“How do I know you’re not just saying that to fuck with me?”

She huffed loudly. If she wasn’t a nineteen-year-old with cute pink markings on her cheeks, Gabriel might actually take her a bit more seriously. Instead, the MEKA pilot kicked him hard in the shin, making him hop back from the pain of contact.

“D.Va--!”

“Do you trust me or not!?” She yelled.

“I…” Gabriel paused. Did he trust her? He hadn’t really trusted anyone… not since… “Y-yeah...of course I trust you…”

“Good, because I didn’t do anything to deserve your doubt.” She reached a hand back under the console and removed the data-mining device, tucking it in a pocket in her pilot suit. Still glaring daggers from her brown eyes, she shoved past Reaper on the way to the exit. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

…

 

The omnium was coming down around them. Grunting an apology, Gabriel grabbed D.Va’s arm before pulling her over. The ceiling shed it’s load of debris in the space where she had just been standing a moment ago.

“Thanks,” She grunted, reaching a hand to wipe the sweat from under her chin. “We’re nearly at the Skyranger.”

“Keep moving,” Gabriel grunted, leading the way.

They weaved their way through the maze-like corridors of the omnium, dodging falling debris and leaping over bodies of deactivated omnics. The MEKA’s explosion had no doubt done more than just destroy the omnium’s core, if the rumbling throughout the facility was any indication. Quickening their pace, they hurried to the waiting transport craft sitting on the omnium’s helipad.

The platform on which the craft was sat was shaking, it’s supports no doubt compromised by the blast. D.Va was quick to flick open the doors of the transport before rushing for the cockpit, her face pulled into one of intense concentration as she swapped her pink-and-black headphones with that of the Skyranger’s headset. Her slender fingers darted for switches, turning them on before settling her hands on the craft’s control wheel.

“The Skyranger’s ready to go!” She yelled into the cabin.

“Hold on!” Gabriel yelled back “Soldier’s not here yet!”

_Come on you idiot_ , he thought angrily. He had so many questions to ask, so many things to _say_ . And he couldn’t do that if the old soldier was dead. Where was he anyway? Yes, the omnium core was further from the helipad but the Soldier had proven he could move as quick, if not quicker than Gabriel’s own enhanced body. So where the _fuck_ was he--

The Skyranger’s doors slammed shut.

“Hana!”

“It’s not me!” She yelled, reappearing in the doorway of the cockpit “Something’s interfering with the aircraft’s systems!”

_Fuck_. The engines were humming, glowing a bright sky blue against the helipad. He could feel the entire machine vibrate with the motion, every bolt and panel preparing itself for an inevitable take off. Gabriel forced himself into action, ripping open the control panel next to the doors to address the VI embedded into the Skyranger’s computers.

“Computer,” Gabriel snarled, “Stop the take off immediately!”

“Unable to follow through with order.” The computer chimed back.

“Override dammit!” He snarled “This is a priority order by agent 44-01-013, Blackwatch-Commander Gabriel Reyes!”

Winston had given him back his former ID when the Reaper had joined the ranks of new-Overwatch, keeping his rank and title intact despite all that had happened. Pushing the printed card into Gabriel’s hands, the scientist had addressed his questioning look with the words _‘in good faith_ ’, before departing. Even Gabriel hadn’t thought he would gain the trust of the scientist - not after nearly killing him.

“Override denied, user does not have authority to access to Skyranger systems.”

Gabriel blinked, darting a confused glance to D.Va. The MEKA pilot met his eyes with her own bright brown ones, expression strained and pink lips pursed into a thin line as she gripped the the sides of the craft tightly to stop from being tossed around. Turning back to the control panel he said the next words slowly, as if he dreaded the answer.

“Computer...Who authorised the take off?”

“Agent 44-02-076, Strike-Commander John ‘Jack’ Morrison.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey.”

Gabriel looked up from where he had buried his head in his clawed hands. Smoke streamed from his many scars, curling about him like a possessive cat. Around him, the cabin was still, the Skyranger having moved to calmer skies, it’s blue engines humming in the frigid cold air, sending a buzz throughout the transport craft. Hana stood before him, chewing on a pink bubble gum. As he watched, she blew a plump bubble before popping it and resuming chewing. She rummaged in her pocket and stretched out her hand-held communicator to him.

When he continued to stare blankly at her, her brows snapped into a frown before she bobbed the hand-held in his face.

“Take it!”

“Why the hell would I want your comm?” He snarled.

“Because you wanted answers!” She snapped “And your answer is in here, now take the damn thing before either I change my mind or my arm falls off!”

Gabriel cursed under his breath, snatching the tiny device from the MEKA pilot’s hand. Still muttering under his breath, he opened the handheld to find a chat room dominating the screen. He narrowed his red eyes, opening his mouth to ask D.Va what the hell she had just given him, only to find the pilot returning to the cockpit - a pink bubble forming over her cheeks.

Resigning himself, Gabriel flicked through the device. The first message was dated back two months, the same day she had joined up with Overwatch.

 

[ Private channel created ]

[ Channel has been password protected ]

[ Channel privacy settings set to “invites only” ]

[ Channel renamed to “D.Va & Scrubs” ]

:: _running encryption::pro &xys*t99287731326:: _

_...Please wait_

_...User recognised: First Lieutenant Hana Song_

_...MEKA Corps 1st Division_

_...Codename: D.Va_

_ >> Channel is now secure _

[ D.Va has invited Soldier: 76 to the Private Channel ]

< _June 28, 2088 > _

**D.Va** : Yo appa

**S76** : What is this? And what is ‘appa’?

**D.Va** : It’s a private chatroom

**D.Va** : We need to talk

**S76** : We can talk in person.

**D.Va** : Who are you really?

**S76** : I don’t understand the question.

**D.Va** : You can fool the others but you won’t fool me

**D.Va** : I know a super soldier when I see one

**S76** : You’re mistaken.

**D.Va** : I ran this chatroom through 27 different proxies in 12 different languages

**D.Va** : So if you’re scared about getting ousted, don’t be.

**S76** : Miss DVa, my identity is no concern of yours.

**D.Va** : It is a concern when the US army decommissioned the super soldier program 30 years ago.

**D.Va** : It is a concern that the others are not aware of your enhanced ability, that you could be a danger to them

**D.Va** : It is a concern that I, as a member of the Korean Army need to report you to my superiors as the files regarding your team stated that the last of your people perished 8 years ago.

**S76** : I assure you, I am no threat

**D.Va** : Then quit with the dodging and answer the question.

**D.Va** : Who are you?

**S76** : You won’t like the answer.

**D.Va** : I can handle it.

**S76** : I will tell you.

**S76** : Under the condition that you do not report me to your superiors.

**D.Va** : Done.

**S76** : My name is Jack Morrison.

**S76** : Miss DVa?

**S76** : Hana?

**D.Va** : Omgggggggggggggggggggg

**D.Va** : Are u serious???????

**S76** : Yes

**D.Va** : Shooting range 4

**D.Va** : 2200hrs

**D.Va** : We’re talking in person

 

\------------

 

_ < July 3rd, 2088 > _

**D.Va** : Appa

**D.Va** : Appaaaaaaaaaa

**S76** : What does ‘appa’ mean?

**D.Va** : More important question

**D.Va** : Why are u staring at Mr. Reaper’s butt?

**D.Va** : Oi

**D.Va** : Appa

**D.Va** : I’m telling Mr. Reaper

**S76** : Please don’t.

\------------

 

< _July 5th, 2088 > _

**S76** : You’ve been calling me ‘dad’ this whole time?

**D.Va** : It suits u

 

\------------

 

< _July 16th, 2088_ >

**D.Va** : OMG

**D.Va** : YOU WERE DATING THAT EDGELORD???

**S76** : Where did you hear this?

**D.Va** : I bugged it out of Mr. Reinhardt

**D.Va** : Had to get a few beers into him before he would talk

**S76** : Hana….

**D.Va** : Oops gtg. Ttyl!

**S76:** Hana?

**S76** : Hello?

 

\------------

 

< _July 28th, 2088_ >

**S76** : Hana

**S76** : Shooting range 4, 0200hrs

**S76** : I need your help with something.

**D.Va** : Roger.

 

\------------

 

< _August 2nd, 2088_ >

**D.Va** : Appa, I got it.

**S76** : How did it go?

**D.Va** : Harder than you think

**D.Va** : Even with my connections the security is crazy

**S76** : I owe you one

**D.Va** : Thank me later

**D.Va** : We’ve got a problem

**S76** : What’s wrong?

**D.Va** : Athena’s on to me

**D.Va** : I had to cut the connection before the transfer was complete

**S76** : Shit

**S76** : What do you need?

**D.Va** : A distraction. 1700hrs

**D.Va** : Make it big

**S76** : Leave it to me.

 

\------------

 

< _August 5th, 2088_ >

**D.Va** : You set half the base on fire.

**S76** : Athena’s systems are stretched throughout the base.

**S76** : A fire will strain her and force her to prioritise.

**S76** : So, did you get all of it?

**D.Va** : It’s done

**D.Va** : Meet me usual place

**D.Va** : 0000hrs

 

\------------

 

< _August 8th, 2088_ >

**D.Va** : R u going to ask Mr. Reaper out?

**S76** : We talked about this.

**D.Va** : U stare at him like a lost puppy

**S76** : I do not.

**D.Va** : Lu says u do

**S76** : How many people know about this?

**D.Va** : Like

**D.Va** : The whole base

**D.Va** : Except Mr. Reaper

**S76** : Let’s keep it that way.

 

\------------

 

< _August 13th, 2088_ >

**D.Va** : Where r u?

**S76** : Alone

**D.Va** : Not the question

**D.Va** : Where r u?

**S76** : Comm tower, north side. Why?

**D.Va** : Mr. Reaper got admitted into the med-wing

**D.Va** : Ms. Mercy won’t tell me why

**S76** : I’m on my way.

 

\------------

 

< _August 17th, 2088_ >

**S76** : I forgot to say this but

**S76** : Thank you

**D.Va** : Yw. How’s Mr. Reaper?

**S76** : Healing.

**S76** : Mercy said it was a sudden imbalance in his regeneration.

**D.Va** : Wow.

**D.Va** : Hey, appa?

**S76** : ?

**D.Va** : U ever gonna tell Mr. Reaper about who u r?

**S76** : No.

**D.Va** : Why?

**S76** : It’ll hurt him if he knows

**S76** : Besides, he doesn’t trust me

**D.Va** : I trust you

**S76** : Bad idea Hana.

 

\------------

 

< _Today, August 22nd, 2088_ >

< _3 hours ago_ >

**D.Va** : Appa

**S76:** ?

**D.Va** : U ok with this?

**S76** : Of course.

**S76** : Why?

**D.Va** : U’ve been really tense ever since we got on the craft

**S76** : Got a plan

**S76** : Need your help with it

**D.Va** : And here i thought u were tense because Mr. Reaper is sitting opposite u.

**S76** : As if.

**D.Va** : Don’t lie

**D.Va** : Lying’s bad.

**S76** : Hana

**S76** : I have to go.

**D.Va** : Toilet’s in the back

**S76** : Not that

**S76** : I mean I have to leave

**S76** : The stuff you got for me needs my attention

**S76** : I can’t move under the new-Overwatch.

**D.Va** : U rly should drop this spy stuff and talk to the team

**S76** : They can’t handle the truth. Not yet.

**D.Va** : Suit yourse

 

**D.Va** : Mr. Reaper looks like a smoking turnip when he's angry

**S76:** Looks more like a blowfish to me.

 

\------------

 

< _Today, August 22nd, 2088_ >

< _10 minutes ago_ >

**S76** : Hana

**D.Va** : WTF?????

**D.Va** : I THOUGHT U WERE DEAD FOR A SECOND

**S76** : Sorry

**S76** : I did tell you I was leaving.

**D.Va** : !@$% u

**D.Va** : You turned the censor filters on.

**D.Va** : I trusted u.

**S76** : I can’t tell if you’re angry about the filters or my apparent death

**D.Va** : !@£$%^^&*(&^

**S76** : Yeah

**S76** : Look, I’m really sorry

**S76** : But I need another favour

**S76** : Can you look after Gabe for me?

**S76** : Hana?

**S76** : Are you there?

 

Gabriel lifted his head. D.Va was watching him from her seat in the cockpit, hands drapped over the side of the chair. Catching his eye, she shrugged before flicking her hand at the device - motioning for him to do as he see fit.

**D.Va** : I’m here.

A trail of dots flashed across the bottom of the screen as Soldi--no, _Jack_ typed his reply.

**S76** : I was worried.

The dots reappeared as he continued to type. But Gabriel had other plans. Swiftly, he typed his own reply before tapping the send button.

**D.Va** : Were you really?

For a moment, the trail of dots disappeared. Before flashing back into place.

 

**S76** : Yes.

**S76** : I was.

**S76** : I still am.

**D.Va** : About me or Hana?

 

For a while, there was no reply. No string of dots to indicate that Jack was replying, no indication of… anything.

 

**S76** : Reyes?

**D.Va** : What happened there boy scout?

**D.Va** : You were calling me ‘Gabe’ just a few minutes ago.

**S76** : Why do you have Hana’s comm?

 

“Because he’s a stupid idiot who can’t be trusted to be left alone with his own devices.” Hana muttered, blowing a pink bubble before breaking it with an audible pop.

Gabriel looked up to find the MEKA pilot standing over him and looking down at the tiny handheld in his palms. When she caught him staring, she once more flicked a hand in the direction of the device.

“Go on, tell him.”

**D.Va** : She says you’re a stupid idiot who can’t be trusted to be left alone with your own devices.

“And ask him if he’s done pretending so you two can go out.” She said

“Hana! I’m not asking him that!”

The MEKA pilot planted her fists upon her slim waist, brown eyes snapped together in a frown as she looked him over. For some reason, she reminded him of Ana. Relatively small, full of fire, a burning desire to win at all cost and… an incredible temper when provoked.

“Alright alright! I’ll ask him,” Gabriel growled “Under one condition.”

“You two and your conditions!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up “What do _you_ want now?”

“Open the Skyranger doors.”

She quirked an eyebrow, a pink bubble growing on thin lips until it was the size of an apple before breaking apart with a loud _pop_. Ignoring her quizzical gaze, Gabriel quickly typed into the tiny handheld comm before stretching it back for Hana to take. With steadily narrowing eyes, the MEKA pilot took ahold of her comm and looked into the screen.

She snorted. A smile pinching at the corners of her mouth.

Turning, she steadily made her way back into the cockpit of the Skyranger, her comm in one hand. With deft fingers, she flicked a number of switches. The craft whirled, temperature dropping rapidly and the wind picking up as the doors opened, slapping aside buckles, cloth, papers and anything that wasn’t tied down.

“I’ll tell Winston you guys are on holiday!” She yelled over the roaring wind.

“Thanks!” Gabriel yelled before taking a deep breath full of frigid cold air, and leaping out the doors.

Hana smiled, flicking back the controls to close the Skyranger doors. As the aircraft slowly whirled back into it’s previous state, Hana reached down to pick up her comm, a huge grin breaking over her petite features.

 

**S76** : Yeah, I knew that.

**S76** : Tell Hana she didn’t really answer the question.

**S76** : Reyes?

**S76** : Gabe?

**S76** : Hana?

**S76** : Anyone?

**D.Va** : T-60 seconds

**S76** : What the hell does that mean?

**S76** : What’s arriving?

**S76** : What's going on?

**S76** : Gabe?

**S76** : Are you th

 

D.Va waited, twirling the little handheld in her palm, humming away a tune she had heard Lucio play the other day. She wondered what everyone else was doing back at Gibraltar. Was Mr. McCree still courting Mr. Hanzo? Was Ms. Lena still playing those pranks she loved so much? Suddenly, her comm pinged in her hand, a quick buzz to indicate a message had been received. Quickly, she brought the device up to her face.

**S76** : !@$% you, Hana.

Smirking, she typed in a reply and hit send.

**D.Va** : Enjoy your vacation!

 


	4. Of Monkeys and Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack drags Gabriel off for a Canopy Walk in a tropical rain forest.  
> What could go wrong?

“You never said.”

Removing the plastic bottle from his lips, Gabriel turned to look at Jack, his blond hair sopping from the sweat and humidity that hung heavy in the air. With one pale hand, the younger man swiped his palm across his brow, leaving behind a muddy streak.

“What did I not say?’ Gabriel asked, recapping his bottle and depositing it back in the holder of his bike.

The blond grinned. “You never told me you could ride a bike.”

Gabriel shrugged, tugging at the neckline of his shirt to allow what little cool breeze there was to reach his burning skin. “I don’t have to tell you all my secrets, Jack.”

Jack laughed, readjusting his hands on the handle bars. “I guess not.”

And with that, he replaced his feet upon the paddles and continued moving. With a last look to make sure his bottle was secure, Gabriel pedalled after him. Singapore was quiet, or well… abnormally quiet while the whole world was still at war with the omnics. The island city was small, secluded and surrounded by water. On all sides, it was protected by the land masses that was Malaysia, Indonesia and Brunei. It was here the others had suggested that he and Jack take a break - no matter how fleeting - from the war that continued to rage on with no end in sight.

At the Northern Reaches of the island, tropical forests and mangroves stretched across the coast. The humidity and heat in the air was almost suffocating, drenching both men’s shirt with water and sweat alike. However, a soft wind would thread it’s way through the trees now and then, bringing with it the salty scent of the sea and the cooler smell of dew drops that hung amidst thick greenery. It was amazing - or so Gabriel thought - that while many parts of the world had opted to change their cities into those of splendid highrises and skyscrapers that stretched towards both horizons, Singapore had confined development to areas already going through urban growth, therefore keeping its rich bounty of sprawling rainforests.

It had been Jack’s idea to spend the day biking through said forests. Gabriel had been reluctant at first, the prospect of spending a day surrounded by towering trees, humidity that stuck like glue and the  _mosquitoes_ , had the older man nearly rejecting the idea outright. But the blond would not be deterred, even producing a bottle of insect repellent the moment Gabriel had begun to protest.

The insect repellent. Gabriel chuckled.

Even though Jack had been confident of the repellent’s effectiveness, Gabriel had still been stubborn, refusing to put the strange smelling concoction on his skin. Jack literally had to chase him from one end of the hotel to the other; the adventure having led to a few mishaps in the lobby, a very harassed maid and bellman, a number of confused guests and a nearly destroyed pool. Soaked to their skin, shirts and pants clinging to all the wrong places, Jack had dragged Gabriel back to their shared room like an angry mother might a difficult child.

The joint shower was enough to abate the blond’s anger. Somewhat.

The tousling match they had after as the boy scout attempted to lather insect repellent on Gabriel’s back was something the older man would never forget, though.

The bike’s wheel stuttered as Gabriel followed Jack onto a narrow bridge of wood, the supports having long turned green by moss and algae. Peeking over the edges of the railing, Gabriel noted that the floor was dropping away as the bridge lifted both man higher into the canopy of the trees. He slowed, eyes roaming over the endless sea of green that enveloped them on both sides. The tall plants ranged from clinging vines, to hanging ferns, large forest giants to thinner figs. Gabriel paused as he caught sight of a tree that was more roots than actual tree. The clinging tendrils overlapped each other, weaving together to form a constricting cage over a kempas tree, their vine-like branches all but suffocating the plant within.  _ Strangler fig _ , he thought with a grimace.

“Gabe!”

Jack was waving him over to a wooden platform fixed around a forest giant. The blond had gotten off his bike, a towel in his hand as he mopped the sweat off his brow. With one last look at the strangler, Gabriel pedalled his way over to Jack before dismounting, leaning his bike against the railings.

“ _ Cariño _ ,” He started “What -- oh no, we’re not going on  _ that _ .”

The older man had caught sight of just what lay on the other side of the platform. Their narrow bridge and platform of wood had given way to a chain bridge of rope, steel and wooden planks. The entire contraption swung ominously, the ground clearly visible from what little space there was between each plank. Truth be told, Gabriel wouldn’t have minded… if the bridge wasn’t a canopy walk more than 50 meters off the ground.

“Come on Gabe,” Jack beckoned, already testing the first plank with a foot. “The bridge’s been here since the early 2000’s, it’s completely safe!”

“First,” Gabriel began “I did not need to know that fact.” Grabbing Jack's hand, he roughly pulled the blond into his chest and away from the swaying bridge. “Secondly,” he hooked a finger under the blond’s chin and turned bright blue eyes to meet his own, “I’m not losing you to some stupid canopy walk while  _ we _ are on  _ holiday _ .”

“But Gabe…” The blond whined in his arms. His blue eyes seem to shine brighter, larger, rounder, his bottom lip was puckered into a pout - just barely trembling.

“No.” Gabriel growled, putting their foreheads together. He would face those puppy dog eyes like a man dammit! “Like I said, we’re n--mmm…”

His eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into the kiss. Jack’s lips were soft, gentle as he caressed Gabriel’s scarred ones. Carefully, the blond eased open the older man’s lips, a slick tongue entered to tease his mouth. Gabriel hummed at the contact, a hand reaching up to brush the blond’s cheek. Jack was willing to oblige, tilting his head so that Gabriel could have better access.

Wet and now - slightly bit - too hot, they parted, Jack’s usually pale cheeks were flushed with colour, gleaming from where sweat and dew coated his skin. Leaning in, the blond nipped at the shell of Gabriel’s ear, his breath hot against the skin of his neck.

“You’re just scared of heights, aren’t you Gabe?”

Gabriel jerked Jack’s head away so that he could glare into those feverish blue eyes.

“I. am. not.” He growled, punctuating each word clearly.

The blond’s only reply was to smirk at him, a pink tongue flicking out to moisten swollen lips.

“Ok, maybe a little,” Gabriel muttered “And stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“ _ That _ !” To be quite honest, Gabriel didn’t exactly know what ‘that’ was either. Just that he was getting too itchy in all the wrong places, pressed flushed against his boyfriend, in the middle of a rainforest, nearly 50 meters off the ground.

“Okay I’ll stop…”

_ Oh no _ . Gabriel knew what was coming next, and he didn’t like it one - itsy - little, bit.

“If you agree to come on the canopy walk with me.”

“Please tell me that’s not a pun.” Gabriel muttered.

For a moment, the blond blinked up at him. Blue eyes bright against his steadily reddening cheeks, and suddenly, he was burying his face into his hands. If they were in some kind of cartoon, Gabriel would have suspected there would be steam coming out of Jack’s ears with the way he was red from the tip of his ears all the way down into the neckline of his shirt. 

“G-Gabe! I wasn’t! Oh my gooood….” He stammered, trying to compose himself. Hands still smacking uselessly at Gabriel’s shoulders, Jack finally managed to regain himself “F-fine! You can stay here, I’ll go on the canopy walk myself!” As an afterthought, he hastily added “And you can sleep on the sofa once we’re back at the hotel!”

_ Okay… ‘that’ _ , Gabriel did not want (not because the sofa was uncomfortable, it was a beautiful thing to be frank. He just didn’t want to be away from Jack - hint hint, wink wink).

“Alright alright  _ mi luz _ , I’ll go on the damn bridge with you,” Gabriel growled, gently pushing past Jack so that he could stand at the edge of the platform.

_ Shit _ . They were a lot higher up than he thought. Taking a deep breath, Gabriel carefully placed one foot on the bridge. Other than the loud clinking of chain, rope and wood, the whole thing held firmly under him. Gingerly, hands gripping to the chain-handrails, he slowly eased himself until his full weight was placed on the bridge. So far so good. Taking a few more deep breaths, Gabriel slowly began making his way across the narrow bridge. Not a few feet away from the platform and the bridge shook ominously, he turned his head back to find Jack behind him. The blond easily threw him an encouraging smile.

The grin he threw back was probably strained if the pain in his cheeks were any indication. Turning back to the task at hand, Gabriel carefully continued wading across the bridge. It became a rhythm that echoed through his head; move right hand, left leg, move left hand, right leg… on and on, something that kept him sane while he was hanging nearly an indescribably unsafe distance off the floor. His fingers were sweat soaked as they rubbed against the rope and chain handrail, not for the first time, he envied his partner’s habit of coming prepared (Jack had been wearing gloves to prevent his palms chafing against his bike’s handrail). Twisting to look back at said partner, he found the blond looking down.

Or more specifically, looking down at his ass.

“Jack.”

The blond’s head jerked up. He would have been the perfect picture of the innocent boy if not for his amazingly red cheeks and the sweat gleaming on his brow.

“What?” Jack asked, voice hoarse.

“Were you  _ gawking _ at my butt?”

“No.” The denial came quickly. Too quickly.

“Uh-huh,” Gabriel smirked, waggling his eyebrows over his shoulder.

“I wasn’t!” Jack protested “I-I was watching m-my feet!”

“Sure Jack.” The excuse was innocent enough but Gabriel wasn’t buying it.

The bridge suddenly shook ominously. Gabriel redoubled his grip around the chains, knuckles going white as he dug in, his knees were shaking, looking down, he could see the tops of trees a long way away. He gulped. Not a breath later and there was a body pressed against him. Jack having caught up with him, his sweat-slicked chest pressed against the meat of his back, his pale hands right beside the older man’s as Gabriel cursed.

“Jack stop shaking the bridge!”

“Make me.” The blond shot back, wiggling his hips. The chains rang in response, wooden planks swaying with the movement.

“I’m going to get you back for this later  _ cariño _ !” Gabriel hissed. His own knees were threatening to give out from under him. And wouldn’t that be a fine way to go; stranded on a canopy walk in the middle of nowhere, covered in sweat and stinking of insect repellent?

Abruptly a loud piercing cry knocked him from his panicked state. Brown eyes jerking up, he spotted a dark shape gliding through the air. Against his back, he could feel Jack still as he too paused to find the source of the call. The form in the air was sharp, angled like two boomerangs with a stick between, the streamline body streaking across the air with little resistance. It screeched once more.

“Peregrine falcon,” the blond murmured, naming the bird that circled overhead “I didn’t know they came this far south.”

Gabriel hummed in agreement, straightening himself as the bird wheeled overhead. Both men watched as the mottled falcon lazily caught a current of air, floating over a dense sea of green. Twisting once, it flapped its wings hard to gain altitude before disappearing into a black speck against a cloudy-white sky. This close, he could feel Jack’s breath hitch at the sight.

Standing more than 50 meters above ground level, the rainforest stretched out under their feet and towards the horizon. They were over most of the tree tops, allowing them to see for miles around. A white mist hung over much of the rainforest, drenching the area with it’s cool body, giving the place an almost mystical look. Choruses of crickets sang through the entire forest, filling the air with their never-ending chirps. Birds called out to be answered by croaking frogs of all sizes. Somewhere in the endless green expanse, they could just make out a waterfall, the roaring of its tumbling stream permeated by the hoots of storks. Under Gabriel’s feet, the bridge rocked gently, clinking and groaning in answer to the soft wind that blew, caressing their hot skins with promises of rain.

“It’s beautiful.”

Carefully, Gabriel half-turned on the narrow bridge - keeping a hand on the railing at all times - to look at Jack. The blond’s hair was spiked in all different directions, courtesy of his sweat and the humid air, still, they bowed their golden strands as the breeze stroked across their drenched tips. His pale skin was tinged red from exertion, stretching deep into the neckline of his form-fitting shirt. His cornflower blue eyes glowed in the gentle light, sparkling as they took in the sight that surrounded them.

“Yeah…” Gabriel murmured. “It is.”

Somewhere along the way, he had forgotten his fear of heights. His legs now steady against the bridge as it continued to sway gently underneath him. Reaching a hand out, he delicately cupped Jack’s face in his hand. The blond happily leaned into his touch, eyes drifting closed, content. Gabriel was eager to stay here, in the middle of the forest despite his previous misgivings, that was...until he spotted  _ them _ over Jack’s shoulder.

“Jack…” He hissed.

Blue eyes quickly blinked open, his face tightening at the tone of Gabriel’s voice.

“Gabe?” He whispered back “What’s wrong?”

The older man swallowed deeply, keeping his eyes fixed behind Jack in case  _ they _ spotted the two men.

“Don’t look now, but…” Gabriel jerked his head in the direction of the platform where they had left the bikes. 

Barely moving on the bridge, Jack twisted to look over his shoulder.

Right when one of the monkeys looked up.

The animal  _ screeched _ . Leaping onto it’s grey-furred legs, tail erect in the air, the rest of its family followed suit, curling their lips to reveal sharp canines. The primates wasted no time, leaping onto the chains of the bridge, shaking the entire contraption.

“ _ Fuuuuck _ ….RUN!”

Both men pelted for the opposite end, wooden planks and steel chains roaring their displeasure at the abuse.

“This is the  _ last _ time I’m going on a canopy walk with you Jack!” Gabriel yelled over the roar of screaming monkeys and groaning bridge.

“Aww come on Gabe,” Jack protested “It’s just a few macaques!”

The bloodcurdling screech that followed his words was not at all comforting.

Both men ran for their lives until they had gotten off the bridge, until they had cleared the forest, until they had reached their hotel. Ignoring the shocked looks hotel staff and guests alike shot them, Gabriel dragged Jack back to their rooms and once inside, locked the door firmly behind them.

 


	5. You are not alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 - "On the Airwaves" - Voice/Music  
> It's Gabriel's birthday and he's having to spend it chasing hooded hooligans around an abandoned town.  
> Unfortunately for him, these hooded hooligans have a surprise for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda cheated and wrote whatever I want.  
> But have some Gabe fluff.

[ D.Va has invited Agent  _ Soldier: 76  _ to the Private Channel ]

**S76** : Alright Hana

**S76** : You know what to do.

**D.Va** : (-ω-)ゝ

_ ::Command Input >> invite_all_agents//except_edgelord _

_...Processing _

_...All agents have been added to this Channel _

_...Agent Reaper has been excluded _

_...Channel is now open _

**Tracer** : What?

**Lucio** : Hello?

**Reinhardt:** OOOH a chat room??

**Winston** : May I ask what this is about?

**Mercy** : ?

**D.Va** : GUYS LISTEN UP

**Sombra** : Why am I here?

**D.Va** : 76 HAS A MISSION HE NEEDS HELP WITH

**Ana** : I hope this isn’t one of your suicide missions Jack

**S76** : It’s not

**S76** : Do you guys know what day Oct 3rd is?

**Hanzo** : Oct 3rd?

**McCree** : OH I KNOW

**McCree** : You have a plan?

**S76** : Only if you guys agree to help with it.

 

( 3 hours later )

 

**D.Va:** All those in, say aye! (ノ^∇^)!!

**S76:** Aye

**Tracer** : AAAAAYE

**Lucio:** AAAAAAAAAAAY

**Lucio** : E

**Reinhardt:** AYE

**McCree:** AYEEHAWW

**Hanzo:** Aye

**Ana:** Aye :)

**Pharah:** Aye

**Genji:** Aye

**Mercy** : Aye ^_^

**Zenyatta:** Aye 

**Symmetra:** Aye

**Torbjorn:** Aye I guess

**Widowmaker** : Aye

**Winston:** Aye

**Mei:** Aye o/

**Sombra** : For that edgelord?

**Sombra** : AYE (•̀o•́)ง

 

* * *

 

Gabriel ‘Reaper’ Reyes streaked across the muddy earth, his black coat arching behind him in a smoking cloud. Stopping at the precipice overlooking the ruined town, he straightened himself, drifting blood red eyes over the crumbling buildings. For a moment, he remained still, allowing the gentle breeze with its load of dust and sand to caress his decaying face. Finally, grunting a curse, he reached into his pocket for his tiny handheld holo-communicator.

The mission today was to survey the town. Athena’s scanners had reported an increase in unknown activity amongst the ruins and Winston had wanted to ensure that said activity wasn’t harmful or dangerous. If there  _ were _ people in the town, the scientist wanted the Reaper to simply observe and if possible, find out what they were up to.

_ Damn scientist couldn’t have asked someone else to do this? _ Gabriel thought viciously, smoke curling at the edges of his coat. Grimacing at his dark thoughts, he hastily recalled himself, forcing the agitated nanites within his body to still. It wasn’t like he had anything planned today either; his partner and closest friend having been sent off on a mission a week earlier. Gabriel sighed once more as his thoughts returned to the stubborn Soldier. Ana had promised that she would look out for Jack, but the vow had done nothing for his nerves when the sniper had called just yesterday explaining that their mission needed to be extended and that the pair won’t be back until much later than anticipated.

It hadn’t helped either that his other  _ friends _ \- Gabriel supposes that’s what they  _ are _ \- had left on a payload mission early this morning. Hana ‘D.Va’ Song, Tracer, Reinhardt, Mercy, Lucio and McCree, the six-man party were scheduled to return tonight - provided that things went according to plan.  _ And when had things ever gone according to plan? _ Everyone else at the Gibraltar base were also away on ‘holiday’ or on research trips, Winston included.

Gabriel sniffed. It looked like he’ll be spending the day alone then. Reaching a clawed hand up to scratch at the flaking skin on his face, he was surprised to find his hand coming away wet. Dissolving the glove, he reached up to where his eyes were to find tears blooming at the edges. Grunting a curse, he roughly wiped away the pearly drops. What was he? Some troubled child that got all weepy when no one was around?  _ No _ . He was Gabriel Reyes, the  _ Reaper _ . And he had a mission to do.

Even if today was his Birthday.

 

...

 

Shadow-stepping into the quiet streets, Gabriel carefully picked his way through the wreckage. The town had long been abandoned in the wake of the omnic war, the evidence of fighting having since faded with time. Rubble were weathered by rain and winds, walls were trellises for creeping ivies and other plants. The ground, although covered with a crude layer of sand and grit, had the occasional clover and dandelion poking through. All in all, the town looked as empty as the day it was vacated.

Gabriel turned in a slow circle in the central square. A beautifully ornate fountain, it’s water evaporated long ago to be replaced with moss and algae stood at his back. Butterflies and bees alike lazily floated in the late afternoon breeze, continuing their task of collecting nectar and pollen. He sighed, flicking out his handheld again to check this area off his list - another barren site. That was, until he heard shuffling.

Swiftly, he disintegrated into smoke. Nanites pulsing, Gabriel peeked around the edges of the fountain. At the end of the street, he spotted two people. Dressed in head-to-toe in black clothing and carrying rucksacks, the two individuals quickly scurried back into the ruins, shoes loud and echoing throughout the empty town. Narrowing his eyes, Gabriel gathered himself and floated after the two people as a long stream of smoke.

Whoever these two people were, they weren’t concerned about keeping themselves hidden, no doubt they didn’t expect anyone to be here doing recon. With ease, Gabriel was able to follow them as they weaved their way through the maze that was once the town’s market place. At this distance, he could see that the two individuals were wearing thick woollen hoodies. While one wore black culotte shorts - a kind of skirt-like pants - and equally black leggings and trainers, her friend wore thick black slacks that dragged around his feet, covering his toes. Both had well-worn rucksacks strapped to their backs, bouncing with every movement as they ran through the empty streets.

Gabriel narrowed his crimson eyes. Judging by their height and the state of their clothes, he was willing to bet that the two were just teenage hooligans, here to make their mark with spray cans and crude drawings. Though it was strange that they would come here of all places - the abandoned town being nearly a week’s drive from the closest functional city. Well it wasn’t like he was in a rush, he could stick around to find out just what these two were up to - maybe even throw in a harsh comment about defacing ruins when the two brought out their spray cans. 

The two teenagers were slowing to a stop at the centre of the marketplace. Thinking quickly, Gabriel wraithed his way up a nearby shop, settling into the second floor so that he could peek at the two black-dressed individuals without being spotted. Silently, he cursed. Both teenagers were wearing black masks that covered over half their faces and with their hoods pulled so far over their heads, Gabriel couldn’t even see their eyes. They were talking to each other in hushed whispers, try as he might, Gabriel couldn’t make out a word they uttered. With a final nod, the two teenagers separated, one heading down the North East corridor of the market while the other headed South West.

Not even blinking, Gabriel left his perch to streak after the female teenager heading down the South West corridor. Five minutes later and the Reaper wished he had followed her companion instead. The girl was rushing headlong into a more compact area of the town, narrow streets merged heavily with backstreets, Gabriel soon found it was all he could do to keep up and not get lost in the maze of the lower district. Left, right, left and then left again, the girl seemed to be following some path only visible to her eyes. Needless to say, it wasn’t a complete surprise when Gabriel lost sight of her.

Slowing to a stop and muttering about stubborn teenagers, he drew out his communicator in the hopes that he might retrace his steps and get the heck out of this maze. The tiny handheld blinked in his hand, screen flashing a brilliant blue before short circuiting. This time Gabriel cursed outright, dropping the flaring device on the floor, harshly flapping his fingers in the air to dispel the shock the comm had sent through his arm. The nanites in said arm pulsed, smoke ejecting in clumps, sending plumes wafting into the air. Grimacing, Gabriel moved his arm, checking that the shock had not done any lasting damage before leaning down to pick up the broken device, and that’s when he saw it.

An arrow etched into the ground.

With a quirked eyebrow, Gabriel drifted his hand over the arrow. Crudely drawn in chalk, it came away white and dusty on his glove. Swallowing a sense of unease, he carefully followed the directions the arrow indicated, armoured boots echoing against the walls of the narrow backstreets. There was more than one arrow, at first they seemed to lead nowhere and everywhere at once. At one point Gabriel even suspected them of leading him in circles until he finally broke out into a more residential looking district. Edging around the corner of a crumbling wall, Gabriel spotted two more black-hooded individuals.

Unlike the two he had found in the market district, these two wore black hooded cloaks, the long material hanging over their shoulders and reaching down to their ankles. Both wore face masks that covered much of their face, their eyes shadowed by the hood of their cloaks. Gabriel cursed. Finding two teenagers was one thing, finding two cloaked adults was another. Was there a cult here? Some kind of gathering that was dragging in the young? He needed to get word out to Winston once he was clear of here. 

Abruptly, the two hooded men turned, heading into one of the nearby houses. Swiftly, Gabriel ghosted after the two men as a thin tendril of smoke. Soundlessly, he followed them into the house...before losing them in the living room. The Reaper tapped his feet viciously against the floor. It wasn’t like him to lose a target, nevermind three targets in the span of an hour. He really didn’t want to do this, seeing souls was a pain in the ass and took a lot of concentration but it looks like he was out of options - he needed to get to the bottom of this.

Closing his eyes, Gabriel took a deep breath, filling lungs that were long dead with cold, dusty air. The nanites in his body reacted to his commands, dissipating in the air, pulsing with energy, it wasn’t long before he could feel the telltale tugs of souls at the edges of his senses. Slowly, he blinked open eyes that were now wholly black. The souls shone a bright red in his vision.

And to his surprise, they weren’t around or above him but rather… below him.

_ A basement _ ?

And there were more than four souls too. Gabriel counted eighteen souls all gathered beneath the town, either clumped in pairs or alone. They were milling about peacefully, their core showing no signs of aggression or hostility. Some were tinged with feelings of impatience, others nervous energy. There was one soul that caught his eye above all the others. Glowing brightly in Gabriel’s eyes, it was tinged with a cornflower blue core. This soul was more agitated than the rest, skittish, like a lost puppy. It moved around constantly, checking on the other souls, despite the other souls’ attempts at radiating a sense of calm.

Gabriel buried his face in his hands, a harsh laugh breaking through his pursed lips.

So their mission had to be  _ “extended” _ , eh?

Dismissing his soul sight, Gabriel gathered himself...and wraithed through the floor. Moving through objects would always be an interesting experience in his mind; the act of turning into nothing but particles, held together by a single spark of who  _ he _ was, weaving through tightly packed stone, bricks and pipes until he touched down in the basement. A loud clatter of noises reached his ear followed by quickly fading footsteps. Whoever was in charge of guard duty hadn’t expected him to straight up ghost through the ceiling.

Taking his time, Gabriel gathered himself, making sure that he had formed every part of his body, his armour, his coat - but leaving his mask and gloves off - before moving deeper into the basement. At a glance, the basement looked as if it had been tampered with recently, furniture emptied out of the area and doors and walls removed to create a maze-like gallery. Candles were used to illuminate the small space, casting their gentle bronze like glow on the entire scene.

That’s when he spotted the first picture.

Enclosed in a frame of deep brown oak, was the first ever group photo of the original Overwatch strike team, fixed in the centre of a pristine white wall. Taking a hesitant step forward, Gabriel reached a hand up to brush the photo. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he remembered the day; it was Fareeha’s birthday, and as a memento, the entire strike team had agreed to take a photo with the young girl. Of course it had taken a lot more persuasion to convince him and Torbjorn to take part in the picture if his scowl and the dwarf’s glare in the photo was any indication.

Dropping his hand, Gabriel blinked as a set of candles against the wall blinked into being, leading him to another part of the basement gallery. Dimly, Gabriel was aware that music had begun playing in the background, filling the entire space with a soft, comforting melody. The tune was catchy, rhythms nearly a visible vibe that crashed around the room in gentle waves, soothing and nostalgic at the same time. Rubbing the back of his head, Gabriel followed the candles as he was shown to another wall, this time showcasing the Golden Age of Overwatch.

Here was Lena’s first prank on Gabriel, the slipstream pilot having piled up a mountain of trinkets on the sleeping Blackwatch-Commander’s head.

Then there was McCree, seventeen and bawling his eyes out as Gabriel presented the cowboy with Peacekeeper and his trademark Stetson hat.

Another showcased him carrying Fareeha around on his shoulder while a panicked Ana could just be seen within the frame.

Other photos were more composed; a picture of Gabriel sharing a coffee with Angela and Torbjorn. Another depicted him coaching Genji in the use of his new cyborg body. A polaroid showed him clapping Winston on the back, a smile painted across his tan features.

And then there were photos of a more personal nature. There was the photo of the three leaders of Overwatch - him, Ana and Jack. Gabriel snorted as he spotted the picture, it had been Ana’s idea to take a group photo and she had stressed that she wanted it ‘prim and proper’. As it turned out, Jack and Gabriel had barely managed to keep a straight face for the photo before bursting into hysterics straight after.

Beside that was mounted a photo of him and Jack in their Halloween costumes, the younger man blushing and trying to hide away as Gabriel - the pumpkin king - attempted to peck the star-spangled blond on the cheek.

He laughed, rubbing at his eyes as he caught sight of the ridiculous photo. He had been sure it had been lost with the destruction of the previous Overwatch. Apparently, he needed to think again.

Still wiping at slightly wet eyes, another set of candles flickered into being, beckoning him to another part of the gallery. Gabriel happily followed, gently clicking his tongue to the rhythm beating through the space. It was familiar, but not something he had heard recently, childish, not to mention pretty repetitive. He stopped short before a wall covered in photos so colourful he had to do a double-take.

The brightest of them all depicted Hana happily saluting the cameraman before her pink MEKA. On either side of her stood an imposing Reaper and Soldier: 76.

Second to that, a photo of Lucio working with his soundboard as a bed-bound Gabriel recovered in the medbay.

Below that was a photo of Mei accidentally unleashing a blizzard in the common room. Everyone (including the cameraman) was frozen in that picture.

A photo framed in a bright blue border showed Gabriel shaking hands with Symmetra as he welcomed her to their ranks.

Tucked neatly beside that was a photo of Zenyatta trying to teach him how to meditate while a peaceful Genji looked on in the background.

Another one, heavily creased around the edges, showcased a panicked Reaper getting crushed in a bear hug by Reinhardt.

There was even one of him getting shot by Hanzo - the arrow shaft protruding from where it had hit him in the leg. Writing scribbled in a messy pink ink below the photo read ‘ _I used to be an adventurer like you, then I took an arrow to the knee_ ’

“Very funny Hana!” He said to the empty room. He could have sworn he heard giggling behind the walls.

Beside that photo was one of him in a Talon base. Gabriel blinked at the photo, not remembering when it had been taken, but at the same time  _ glad _ that it had been taken. It showed him sat in a well-worn couch, while a sleeping Widowmaker leaned against his shoulder and a likewise sleeping Sombra splayed out across his lap, drool dripping from the hacker’s open mouth.

Gabriel rubbed at his face with his hands, not even registering as his hand came away wet. He wasn’t sad, he was far from it. He could feel his cold heart pounding, beating against his ribs in time to the music radiating from tiny hard-light speakers. From the candles in the room to the frames and pictures on the wall, everything here spoke to him - about  _ everyone _ .

_Cumpleaños feliz ~ ♪_   


Wiping away at a suddenly runny nose and trying to swallow down sniffles, Gabriel turned to follow a group of candles that had hesitantly flickered into being, leading him to the back of the gallery and the final picture.

Or more accurately, a _montage_ of pictures.

_Cumpleaños feliz ~ ♪_

Using all the photos that had been taken ever since the inception of Overwatch, the “hooded” individuals had pieced together a group photo with Gabriel as the centrepiece, beside him were his many friends - no - his  _ family _ , hugging him and laughing. Arranged on a table in the middle of the room was a cake, a candle lit and glowing brightly where it was fixed on top of the heavily icinged surface. It's little flame flickering in time to the song that was coming from all around him, played by a certain DJ and sung by friends. By the side of the room, a tall, broad muscled man clad in an oversized hoodie, white-hair glowing in the dim light, waved hesitantly at him.

“Hey Gabe,” Jack said.

“H-Hey,” Gabriel stammered. If he was slightly weepy before, he was crying now, the tears streaming down from his eyes as his partner and lover came forward to embrace him, drawing him into his arms and gently soothing a hand down his back.

“Hey now, come on Gabe,” Jack murmured “We haven’t even gotten to the best part.”

Gabriel sniffed, raising his head just enough to look at Jack before their friends entered the room, all clad in black garments from hoodies to cloaks and each holding a gift.

 

_ Te deseamos Gabriel ~ ♪ _

_ Cumpleaños feliz ~ ! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a bit rushed writing this since I was getting kicked out of the library >_<  
> Hope it's alright.
> 
> P.S. I originally wanted to use the song and setting of 'Alone' by Alan Walker but figured a Happy Birthday was probably better. So instead, it became the title of this piece :)


	6. Death Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 - "In Another Life" - Alternate Universe/Timelines  
> How about the afterlife? Jack's been dead eight years after the conclusion of the second omnic crisis and the death of Talon, leaving Gabriel to struggle through his life. When the time finally comes for Gabriel, he's being dragged to Purgatory to serve under a strike force that protects and guides souls to the afterlife...!?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to make a confession. I was reading Kuroshitsuji (The Black Butler) while I wrote this...and then I thought about 'Men in Black' and R.I.P.D. (Rest in Peace Department). And now you get this stuff. Enjoy.

_ “Promise me…” _

_ “Anything.” Gabriel declared, his hands were fraying, ejecting smoke into the sterile hospital room. Why...why did it have to end like this? _

_ Gabriel couldn’t deny that their life had been a rollercoaster ride, from their first meeting in the SEP, he and Jack were always destined to live the crazy life. And it had played out; the Omnic War, Jack getting the promotion to Strike-Commander of Overwatch, the creation of Blackwatch, the fall of Overwatch, their vigilante/mercenary days where they tried in vain to kill each other over misguided vengeance and false-intel… And after that, the Recall and recreation of a new Overwatch, his and Jack’s redemption and… reunion. _

_ And where had it led them? _

_ Not a happy ending, that was for sure. The final fight with their enemies had left Jack paralyzed. Despite Angela’s best attempts to save him, the old soldier’s body had been failing long before and soon she found her treatments sliding off his body like rain off a window. Gabriel had been there for the entire ordeal, unable to leave Jack’s side after they had finally gotten back together. _

_ Holding the dying soldier’s hand now, he was reminded of all the things he never said, should have said. All the words, the emotions, the little kisses, hand-holdings, hugs, brushes that he never did - should have done. Where had their time gone? Gabriel wasn’t one to kid himself, he knew very well where it had gone - out the window. It didn’t make it any easier as Jack took a wheezing breath. _

_ “Promise me… you’ll move on,” Jack rasped. “Promise me, y-you’ll live properly this time…” he coughed “... that you’ll do all the things you said you wanted to do but never did.” _

_ Trust Jack to read his mind now of all times. _

_ Gabriel tightened his grip on the soldier’s hand. His own hands, his body was smoking, barely able to hold together as the flood of emotions coursed through his veins, moving blood that had long since stopped flowing, filling him with regret, nostalgia, longing, sadness… _

_ “Please.” Jack breathed. _

_ “I…” Gabriel hesitated. Could he do it? Could he live without Jack? They were like two sides of the same coin for fuck’s sake, the soldier should know this better than anyone else. The world was finally at peace, yes. But how could he live, how could he face the next sunrise knowing that his own light was gone? How could he live without Jack’s warmth at his back each morning? Each brush of the wrinkled hands against his own decaying skin, every quirk of his lips as he coaxed a smile from the old soldier? How could he live his days knowing there were no bright blue eyes to light his way with the coming of the night? _

_ “Gabe…” Jack’s voice was fading, the heart monitor by his side was beeping away his life, each beat of his heart longer from the last. _

_ He - They didn’t have anymore time. And Gabriel would truly be damned if he didn’t say the words now. _

_ “I-I promise.” _

_ “Good… good…” _

 

* * *

 

In all honesty, he hadn’t thought dying a second time was possible - not with the way his body was. If anything, Gabriel thought he would at least live to see space travel outside their solar system. But instead, he found himself sitting in his armchair eight years after Jack’s death facing his own still ‘body’ lying on the bed. Of all the kinds of death he could have had, dying in his sleep was around the last on his list… like, the  _ very _ last.

But there was no denying it as he looked his own body over.

McCree was so going to throw a fit.

He planted a hand over his face and rubbed it tiredly.

“Gabriel Reyes?” A voice perked up from out of nowhere.

Gabriel jumped in his armchair before turning to face the intruder. Clad in a form-fitting, black, three piece suit, the brunette woman standing in his bedroom doorway could have looked like your average working lady. But if there was anything Gabriel prided himself in, it was his observation skills - this woman was a fighter. The suit did well to hide her body but the strained muscles surrounding her high cheekbones and the rigid pose in which she stood indicated military training of some form or other. Her hair was tied back in a stiff bun and rectangular, black rimmed spectacles sat on a dainty, pointed nose. Her hazel eyes were wide and unblinking.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes before raising a hand in a small wave, “Yeah, that’s me…”

The woman produced a small notebook from her suit before flipping it open, the flapping pages loud in the quiet one-room apartment.

“Gabriel Reyes, aka the Reaper. Died on Thursday morning, July 7th, 2089. Cause of death, imbalance in internal chemicals therefore resulting in greater decay over regeneration.” The woman removed a stamp from her pocket and stamped the notebook. “Comments, none.”

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow at the description of his death. Angela had mentioned something just last week about the imbalance within his body but he had not thought anything about it. He guess he ought to have paid more attention to the doctor. But then again, that was out of his hands now.

“Um,” Gabriel started “May I ask what this is?”

“Mr. Reyes, my name is Samantha Fischer,” the woman began “I suppose I do not need to tell you that you are dead and therefore I am here to guide you to the Port.”

“I’m sorry… the port?”

“ _ The _ Port,” the woman - Fischer stressed. “It is where souls such as yourself are given passage to the ‘Afterlife’.”

“Uh huh…” Gabriel’s eyebrow was brushing the hem of his beanie as he scrutinized Fischer. He hadn’t been religious at all in the later years of his life but had come to acknowledge the presence of souls - a life spent on the battlefield and then another fifteen years as the Reaper could do that to you. Well, if Fischer was bringing him to the Afterlife, he might as well get going - he could think of one person he would  _ not _ like to keep waiting. Grunting, he raised himself to his feet and took one last look at the room he had spent the last moments of his life in. His red eyes lingered on the unmoving form on the bed for a moment before jerking away.

Turning to Fischer he said, “Right. So what now?”

“This.” Without hesitation, she stepped forward and gripped Gabriel’s shoulder.

The world seemed to twist inside and out. Gabriel was surprised that he could feel his stomach churning with the motion as his body seemed to liquify and move like water funneling down a drain. They disappeared from his apartment in Gibraltar…

...To reappear at a port the likes of which Gabriel had never seen. There were  _ thousands _ of ships in the harbour waiting to dock, those that were docked ranged from longboats of the early Stone Age to commercial cruise ships of the late 21st Century. At a glance, Gabriel saw Viking Longboats, Galleons, Steamships, even Battlecruisers and Roman Dromons. There were so  _ many _ , and they all fit within the Port. 

The town itself was a sprawling city. Like the ships in the harbour, the buildings were a haphazard mix-and-match of mud-houses with thatch roofs, stone buildings with straw, brick houses with slate, and cement buildings. Lights gleamed at windows and steam and smoke rose from food stalls dotted throughout the city. Music rose from the maze-like streets and there were cries of laughter from many areas of the glimmering city. In a blink, he saw Renaissance philosophers, Byzantine soldiers,  Chinese Scholars, and many, many more. The timelines were all so mashed together Gabriel was shocked that there was any resemblance of order at all.

“Interesting.” A voice commented.

Gabriel whirled to glare at Fischer who was eyeing him with something akin to mild amusement.

“I have never seen a soul take to Fade-stepping as well as you,” she went on.

“I’ve shadow-stepped as the Reaper,” Gabriel pointed out “Teleportation is nothing new to me.”

“Of course, forgive me.” Fischer said with a small bow. Raising a hand she indicated a direction. “The Harbour Masters will want to take your name, this way please.”

With that, she twirled on the ball of her feet and began walking down the street she had pointed. Gabriel struggled to catch up, not fond of the idea of being lost in the throng of people at all. Fischer set a brisk pace, weaving through the crowd as if born to it, unable to suppress his own curiosity, Gabriel spoke up, shouting above the crowd to be heard.

“So hey, Ms. Fischer! Where are you from?”

“Germany!” She shouted back.

Narrowly avoiding a collision with a Knight on horse-back and muttering a quick apology, Gabriel rushed to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his guide. “Sorry, I mean when?”

“Early 21st Century.”

That wasn’t too long ago, Gabriel thought. Another question then. “Why are there so many people from so many timelines here?”

“The Port tries to ship as many people to the Afterlife as possible but like any real life transportation service there will be delays, long queues, mistakes, errors in baggage, incorrect traveller details, and holidays.”

Gabriel couldn’t help staring at his guide. “They have holidays here?”

“Try working 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year,” Fischer said quickly, not missing a beat.

“Right… Got it.” Gabriel mumbled, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. His… hoodie? Looking down, he found himself wearing clothes he would have favoured back during his days in BlackWatch; military issued black slacks and shirt, covered by a soft cotton hoodie overlain by his favourite kevlar armour. Military boots, leg protection and his favourite woollen beanie on his head, everything checked out.

“Apparel in death is a strange concept,” Fischer commented, catching Gabriel’s look “You get used to it.”

They made the rest of their way in silence. After the initial shock, Gabriel felt confident enough to keep pace with his guide while watching their surroundings. That being said, the sight of seeing so many people from different walks of life was in itself nauseating. He hoped his ‘ride’ wasn’t going to be delayed for the next millennia, he didn’t know if he could handle it.

Soon enough, Gabriel spotted a huge line snaking it’s way along the port’s edge. He gulped. There were at  _ least _ a few million in line at the moment if he took a guess. No wonder there were so many people stuck here.

Fischer led the way confidently to the line with a quick flick of her hand to indicate that Gabriel should follow. Resigning himself to his fate, he followed her. Abruptly his mind ticked - if there was such a long line, wasn’t it possible that  _ he _ was still here?

“Ms. Fischer?”

“Yes, Mr. Reyes?” Fischer asked.

“Is it possible to look for a... _ friend _ here?” Gabriel asked, fumbling for the right words.

“Of course,” Fischer answered, not even sparing him a glance - looking as if she had answered the same question many times before. “I can ask the Harbour Masters for you, what is your friend’s name?”

“It’s --”

“Agent Fischer!” a voice interrupted. Gabriel twisted to find another man in a three-piece suit running towards them, a thick notebook in his hand. He came to a stop a meter away, hands planted on his knees as he gasped for breath.

“Agent Ross,” Fischer greeted “I was under the impression you were being deployed in Canada.”

“Plans changed,” Ross gasped, straightening himself he glanced at Gabriel. “Is this the Reaper?”

“Yes.”

“I’m right here,” Gabriel grumbled under his breath.

Ross barely acknowledged him, removing a thin sheet of paper from his notebook before presenting it to Fischer. “I have orders from the Secretary-General, the Reaper is to be moved to Purgatory immediately.”

“Purgatory!?” Gabriel exclaimed as Fischer calmly opened the document and scanned its contents.

“Understood, I’ll take him there myself.” Fischer refolded the document, depositing the paper within her coat before turning to Gabriel.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Gabriel started, hands stretched before him in self-defence “Hold on, what the  _ hell _ is Purgatory?”

“I believe it’s best someone at Headquarters tell you,” Fischer answered. “I do so  _ hate _ working overtime.”

With that, she stretched a hand forward, taking hold of Gabriel’s arm despite his efforts to bat her away. The world twisted once more.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel fell to the floor the moment they reappeared at their destination, twisting away from Fischer’s grip. He quickly scrambled his feet, red eyes glowing as he scanned his surroundings. He was in an office building, men and women in suits eyed him whilst others continued on their way. It was like a bank, a really busy bank, with people disappearing and reappearing from thin air. And these people were no ordinary ‘bankers’. Like Fischer, their bodies displayed subtle hints of being trained in one way or another - whether it be military or in the combat arts.

A loud guttural snarl broke him from his thoughts and he whirled to find a  _ monster _ being wrestled into the lobby. The monster had the face of a human woman, albeit if a human was starved in a cold, wet cave for a year but that was where similarities ended. The body was elongated, arms and limbs thin and stick-like as it tried to twist out of the grip of several agents in protective armour. It’s hands and feet were clawed with bird-like talons. Thin, stringy hair hung down its balding scalp, it bared rodent-like teeth from a mouth under a hawk-like nose.

Abruptly, the creature  _ screeched _ . Gabriel snapped his hands over his ears as the monster used the distraction to wrench itself away from its captors, taloned hands lashing out. The agents leaped back, barely saving their necks as the monster screeched and launched itself across the lobby - right towards Gabriel. He swore, he had no idea what that monster was and he didn’t know if his Reaper abilities still worked here - wherever  _ ‘here’ _ was - but he was glad that a lifetime of training hadn’t abandoned him. He dropped and rolled, the taloned hands missing his beanied head by a mile. Swiftly, he twisted to his feet as the creature whirled around, looking for another victim.

A shot rang out, echoing in the steel and marble lobby.

The monster dropped -  a smoking hole in its head - to reveal a smiling woman, an IMI Desert Eagle in her hand. With practised ease, she holstered the handgun to her waist before stepping over the corpse of the monster and towards Gabriel. She stretched a hand out.

“Ok, I’m…officially seeing things,” Gabriel mumbled.

“Get up Gabriel, I run a tight shift and I don’t need  _ you _ breaking down on me.”

Grumbling under his breath, Gabriel took the offered hand. With a strong tug, Gabrielle Adawe, former Secretary-General of the UN and founder of the original Overwatch, pulled Gabriel to his feet and gave the man a pat down.

“Still favoring that informal get-up?” She asked, looking him over.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” He countered.

“I  _ am _ dead,” she said “No thanks to you, of course.”

Gabriel rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. It was one thing to die and be taken to the place where he would be transported to the afterlife, it was another to be transported to an office-like base and be faced with his former superior that he had killed as an act of vengeance when he was the Reaper. Oh how a certain blond would have laughed at the irony...

“Agent Fischer,” Adawe said, breaking Gabriel from his thoughts.

Fischer stepped forward with a salute. “Yes ma’am?”

“Thank you for bringing Mr. Reyes here. You may return to your post.”

“Understood! Thank you ma’am!” Stiffly, the agent turned on her heel and left.

Gabriel watched her leave, a knot of apprehension tying itself in his gut. Sure he had met her for a grand total of less than half-an-hour, but it did not diminish the fact that Fischer was the first ‘dead’ person he had talked to. Watching her leave was like watching your best friend leave you at the bar in a crowded party and telling you to ‘be nice’ and ‘sociable’. None of which Gabriel was very good at.

“Well, Gabriel…” Adawe began “It’s good to see that you’re so... _ lively _ .”

Internally, he would happily kill the woman again. “Cut to the chase Adawe, what do you want and why am I here?”

“Didn’t Fischer tell you you were being moved to Purgatory?”

“And what  _ exactly _ is Purgatory?” Gabriel demanded.

Adawe sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Purgatory is a mandatory program for souls who have committed sins in their lives and need to be ‘cleansed’, so to speak. In layman’s terms, it means that someone has committed a crime so severe in their life that they must carry out a sentencing in death before they can move on to the Afterlife.”

_ Well… Fuck. _

“So…What crime did I commit?” Gabriel asked, he thinks he knows the answer but he might as well ask anyway.

“Stole numerous souls under the jurisdiction of Death Gods and resisted death during the explosion of Overwatch.” Adawe stated plainly.

“Ok wait, hold on…” Gabriel started. “Resisting death is a crime?”

“In your case it was more a forced revival.”

“Keyword:  _ forced _ . I didn’t want to be revived, Adawe.” Gabriel grumbled.

“Doesn’t excuse the fact that you exploited your new found power to consume souls protected by the Death Gods,” Adawe snapped. “Most of us here had to work overtime after all that shit you pulled.”

“Alright, I’m sorry,” Gabriel growled “But who are these Death Gods you keep talking about?”

“We’ll talk on the move, there’s someone I need you to meet.” With that, Adawe began walking towards the lifts, Gabriel lurched after her. He was surprised to note that people were either moving out of their way and snapping salutes or nods towards his companion. Once inside the glass box that was the lift, Adawe hit the button for the highest floor. The lift pinged its acknowledgement before smoothly easing its doors shut.

“Okay, where do I begin,” Adawe mumbled, leaning back against the elevator.

“Tell me about the Death Gods,” Gabriel interjected.

“The Death Gods are what I am, what  _ you _ are now,” Adawe started, raising a hand to stop Gabriel as he tried to speak. “Wait, hear me out Gabriel. Like I said, you’re in Purgatory because you committed a crime in life and now need to serve out your sentence. But serving your sentence in death is different to how it is in life. Here, they put you to work as a Death God. A Death God’s job is to collect souls from the dead and safely transport them to the Port where they can be sorted and put on a boat to the Afterlife.

“In addition, a Death God’s job also includes the policing of the streets of the living to remove any…” She fumbled for the words “...disturbances. These could be monsters like the one you saw in the lobby or anything else that disrupts the peaceful collection and transport of souls.”

“Like the Reaper.” Gabriel stated.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t I get…” He made quotation marks in the air “...arrested then?”

Adawe sighed. “The problem with the Reaper was that you were still considered  _ alive. _ Death Gods and monsters like that one in the lobby can’t be seen by the living and cannot communicate with them unless they are dead. You on the other hand, could see and communicate with the living but had the uncanny habit of seeing souls and then devouring them. By law, we’re not allowed to touch anything that is living, even if it  _ is _ half-dead and getting in the way of our job.”

“Ouch, way to put it lightly.” Gabriel grumbled “So how long do I have to serve?”

“You?” Adawe tapped the side of her chin in thought. “I haven’t looked at your file but I’d say you’d need to collect close to a billion souls before being released from your sentence.”

“A  _ billion _ !?” Gabriel exclaimed.

“Stealing and the consumption of souls is a tier one offence,” Adawe pointed out. “You’re lucky the higher-ups didn’t try to outright scrap your soul.”

“ _ Fuck… _ ” Gabriel growled. He hadn’t expected this. Eight years had already passed, he couldn’t make  _ him _ wait for  _ that _ long. 

“Watch your tongue Gabriel, you’re in the presence of Purgatory’s Secretary-General.” Adawe tutted.

“Why am I not surprised you got yourself such a high-ranking position.” Gabriel grumbled.

“Look on the bright side Gabriel, if you work hard, be on your best behaviour and obey your superiors, they might shorten your sentence!”

Sure. And when had he been good at following orders?

The elevator pinged once more as they reached the topmost floor of the building, silver doors sliding open with barely a sound. He followed Adawe into a narrow corridor filled with bustling agents, up here the agents seemed more harried than those he saw in the lobby and Gabriel found himself dodging around jogging men and women, most of them carrying wads of paper or speaking hurriedly into communicators. At the end of the hallway, erected on a wall was a familiar symbol.

“Adawe, isn’t that…?” He stuttered, uneasiness gathering in the pit of his gut.

“This way.” The Secretary-General led him down the right corridor, past more hassled agents and rooms filled to the brim with holographic maps, pictures of individuals and endless documents. Ignoring Gabriel as he tried to speak, she ushered him into what looked like a Command Center. At the center of the room was a holographic projection of the globe, lights of red, green and amber pinging across its blue surface. Agents worked at computers around the globe or moved around, chatting to one another.

Barely sparing the other agents a glance, Adawe made a bee-line to the back of the room where a large group of agents were crowded around a single individual.

_ No...it can’t be… _

Gabriel hurried to catch up with the Secretary-General but his eyes were focused on the throng of people. Through the mass of bodies, he could see a pristine ankle-length blue coat left open to reveal form-fitting body armour.

_ No, no, no, it’s not possible _ …

Just above the waving papers and the heads of other people, he could just make out a patch of vibrant gold.

_ He’s not supposed to be here… _

Adawe cleared her throat. The agents, catching sight of the Secretary-General, began moving away and snapping salutes. The lone individual in their center lay revealed, blue eyes blinking up at the Secretary-General, two deep scars cut across his face, marring the beautiful skin with deep red valleys. His pink lips began to quirk upward as he moved to greet Adawe.

“Commander, there is someone I would like you to meet,” she was saying.

“By all means--” The blond began.

The stack of paper in his hands fell to the ground. The smile all but washed from his face as he caught sight of Gabriel, blue eyes wide and unblinking. His gloved hands were shaking, if he was pale to begin with, he was now as white as...as a _ghost_.

“Gabe…?” Jack asked, voice shaking.

“Jack, why are you…”

_...why are you in Purgatory? _

The Secretary-General cleared her throat, looking between both men, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Commander Jack Morrison, may I introduce to you the Reaper.” Adawe said, her voice was filled with a smugness that if not for the blond before him, Gabriel might have been tempted to blast her head off with his trademark shotguns. “Welcome to DeathWatch, Gabriel Reyes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have some incentive to continue the story but while I'm working on 'One Litre of Tears' and 'A Daemon's Tale', that's going to be pretty difficult. I'll see what I can do but for now, have this and let me know what you think :)
> 
> P.S. I imagined Fade-stepping as the same way the Wizards of Hogwarts/Harry Potter series use apparition spells.


	7. Fairy Godmother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 - "Cover me" - Comfort/Fluff  
> Gabriel has a bad habit of sleeping on the fly. Lucky for him, he has a "magical" blanket-fairy that looks after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the late upload >_<  
> I actually wrote another piece but I didn't think it fit the prompt so I rewrote it...  
> And then I got busy... And then it's CNY right now... I'm so sorry >_

Gabriel has a habit of falling asleep on the fly. He tells himself it’s not as bad as some of his squadmates make it seem to be. They’re soldiers fighting in the middle of a war, he will take his rest where he can, when he can. But it's not the ability to fall asleep anytime anyplace that makes him reconsider his habits. It’s the fact that someone has been taking care of him  _ while _ he sleeps that has him feeling all sorts of awkward.

It starts as a coat on his shoulder.

Sometimes when he falls asleep in the common room of the barracks, other times when he’s fallen asleep in the mess hall with his head atop his folded arms. His mysterious guardian finds him no matter where, when and drops a coat across his broad shoulders. Gabriel thinks about hiding away, at least it would stop the coat-giver from losing anymore of his (or her) coats. He puts his plan into play one day when he finds the broom closet empty and more or less undisturbed. Settling down amongst the piles of cleaning liquid, the position is hardly comfortable but it beats sleeping in a ditch. At least in here, it’s  _ warm _ . Before he drifts off, he’s pretty convinced his ‘fairy god-mother’ won’t find him here.

He wakes up to find himself covered by a woollen military-issued blanket.

Grumbling about the stubbornness of his squadmate - because who else would know where he went - he folds the blanket up and goes in search for the rest of his team.

“Alright, which of you  _ pendejos _ just lost their blanket?” He growls once he’s within earshot.

The assembled group, looks up at him from where they’re gathered around a table playing what looks like Bluff. For a moment, the men and women trade confused looks. Questions and accusations were tossed at each other, jokes and teases turn into playful nudges and punches. When Gabriel snaps for their attention once more, one of the rookies turn to him with bright blue eyes.

“No one’s lost their blanket sir, I’m sure of it.”

Gabriel sighs, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. Tossing the blanket at the rookie, he motions for the small scrap of a man to do whatever he wants with the woollen covering before leaving. At least once he moves to SEP, there’s at least no chance of this happening and he won’t have to worry about his secretive squadmate. 

And it looks like he might have his way, once the doors of the facility close behind Gabriel and he is surrounded by hardy and experienced soldiers, all ready to take their injections and be turned into the country’s pride and joy: supersoldiers. Not a week in and after a painful session of injections, Gabriel passes out in one of the training rooms on an ab cruncher.

When he finally wakes, he’s been rearranged on the floor, his head pillowed by a folded towel and a cup of ginger tea - still steaming - waiting within arms reach. He lurches into a sitting position, briefly forgetting his earlier nausea and nearly puking his guts across the training mats. When he gets himself under control, he drags the cup over to himself and takes a tentative sip. Warm, spicy against his abused throat, there’s a twinge of sweetness, brown sugar or something, he can’t tell. Gabriel wants to growl at whoever had moved him but can’t find it in his heart as the tea soothes him with it’s liquid warmth. Maybe having a fairy godmother wasn’t so bad.

When he finishes his drink, he takes both the cup and the towel, washes the former and leaves them neatly on a bench just inside the training room. He never found out who came to retrieve both items.

Between intense training sessions, more injections, and clutching his toilet with sweat soaked hands, Gabriel soon finds himself pampered by his unseen guardian. His new friends in the SEP complain about his treatment but the dark man shrugs it off. He doesn’t know who does it but he’s pretty sure it’s not one of the scientists or overseers. He points both out to his friends and the oldest of them, a large woman named Garza proposes they stake out while he sleeps.

“There’s nothing else to do,” Garza says, and everyone nods in agreement - they’ve all had enough of this dreary base and the thought of even a bit of fun - even if it  _ was _ a stakeout - was worth it.

It took a lot more convincing before Gabriel finally acquiesced. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to find out  _ who _ had been taking care of him, it was just… what should he say? ‘ _ Oh hey, thanks for looking after me, you really didn’t have to?’ _ Or  _ ‘Look I’m happy you take care of me while I sleep but it’s getting creepy?’ _ . Fighting down his anxieties, Gabriel settles himself into a cot in the medbay. Owen had managed to convince one of the nurses to loan them a room and the woman had huffed indignantly before handing over a set of keys and firm instructions to not touch anything they were not supposed to.

At the moment, all his friends were hiding in the adjoining room of the medbay, having agreed that if someone was in the room with Gabriel, the mysterious-blanket-fairy would not appear. He snorted at the nickname given to his silent guardian. As the first hints of sleep tugged gently at the corner of his eyes, Gabriel wondered if his fairy godmother would appear. In hindsight, he needn’t have worried.

When he finally shudders awake, a rich bittersweet scent fills the room, wafting from a mug sat on the cot’s bedside table. Pulling off a blanket that had not been there when he first fell asleep, Gabriel pulls the mug to his face and takes a deep whiff of the dark brown substance. Hot chocolate.

Quirking an eyebrow, Gabriel carefully balanced the mug in his hands and the blanket across his shoulders before pushing into the room where his friends waited. To his surprise and definite confusion, everyone was nursing their own mug of hot chocolate.

“...What?” he began

“Oh hey look,” Owen murmured around his cup “Sleeping beauty’s awake.”

Garza waved him over beside her, taking a long draught from her own cup, she addressed his unspoken question “We didn’t catch him - or her - there was a knock outside the door half way through the stakeout. We thought it was one of the nurses or doctors, when we opened the door we found enough hot chocolate for everyone.”

“A distraction?” Gabriel asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yup,” Garza sighed “When we looked back at you, you were covered and there was another mug on your table.”

Glancing around the room of his assembled friends, Gabriel noticed an untouched cup waiting forlornly on a countertop.

“Who’s that one for?” He asked.

Garza, who had her head buried in the depths of her mug pointed to the corner of the room where a man was lying on his back, pale arms crossed over his broad chest. A book was open and balanced across his face, revealing nothing but vibrant strands of gold atop his head. The blond snored quietly in his corner, fast asleep.

“He’s Owen’s roommate.”

Gabriel nodded absently. He never got the man’s name until he was being removed from SEP and being transferred into some UN strike force known as Overwatch.

Not that the name mattered much to Gabriel, it was just another person, another man in his team that he needed to factor into his plans. He was too busy strategizing, meeting up with generals, doing his job. He still hadn’t lost his habit of sleeping anytime, anywhere, anyplace. One day, he found himself shaken awake by his second in command, Ana Amari, in the second floor of an abandoned church, a mile away from the East European Omnium. When he attempted to get up, he was surprised to find that he had a teddy tucked into the crook of an arm and a steaming cup of coffee waiting on the floor beside him.

“Ana?” He asked.

The sniper was already shaking her head. “Wasn’t me.”

Narrowing his eyes, he took the coffee and went down to meet the rest of his team, the stuffed toy carried under an arm. Ignoring the looks Liao and Torbjorn shot him, Gabriel commenced his briefing, carefully going through the day’s plans and objectives, all the while sipping at the coffee in his hands. When he finally drew the meeting to a close and watched his teammates move to pack up, he flipped the now-empty coffee cup - on it’s base was scratched the letter ‘W’.

“Could be Reinhardt,” Ana whispered from beside him. “His last name’s Wilhelm.”

Nodding silently, Gabriel vowed to speak with the giant crusader after the mission’s conclusion. Tucking the teddy into his pack, he shouldered his gear and moved to stand beside the man waiting by the door, a pulse rifle held in gloved hands and biotic emitters strapped to his arms. Gabriel nodded his greeting as the soldier saluted before moving past and leading the way to the omnium.

A firefight, huge explosion and celebratory dinner later, Gabriel stood before Reinhardt’s door as the crusader gently turned the tiny cup over in his large hands. Finally, the gentle giant stretched the cup back for Gabriel to take, all the while shaking his massive head.

“I’m sorry, Gabriel my friend.” Reinhardt was saying “This cup is not mine.”

Gabriel thanked the crusader, apologising for taking up his time. Reinhardt gracefully brushed aside his concerns before wishing the dark man goodnight. Finally left alone, Gabriel returned to his rooms, placing the cup next to his pack. As an afterthought, he takes out the teddy before turning in for the night.

…

“We now welcome onto stage the newly appointed Strike-Commander!”

Gabriel grit his teeth at the title, watching the blond jump before catching himself and stepping onto the podium. To be brushed aside in favour of a subordinate. Gabriel should be proud, he helped trained that sap, but he feels anything but. Dark emotions toil under the surface, bubbling like a stormy sea threatening to spill and drown him. At the first chance he gets, Gabriel leaves the gathering and soon finds himself drifting off on a lonely balcony.

When he wakes, there’s a business jacket, a deep royal blue, splayed out across his shoulders. It’s thick material warding away the biting cold, the heavy weight is comforting. Gabriel finds himself reluctant to move from his spot but the noises drifting from the balcony’s edge has him wandering over to the rose covered railings to look down at the assortment of dignitaries and bureaucrats leaving the building. A head of vibrant gold catches his eyes. The blond wasn’t wearing a coat despite the freezing winds. Gabriel sniffs, before looking away.

 

* * *

 

“McCree.”

“Yeah,  _ jefe _ ?”

Gabriel walks into the room, stretching, a blue woollen hoodie in one hand. Stifling a yawn, he walks up to the young gunslinger lounging in a chair and cleaning Peacekeeper with steady hands. Once at arms length, he stretches the piece of clothing out to the cowboy.

“Thanks kid.”

For a moment, McCree looks between his boss and the worn hoodie, seams fraying at the edges. Putting down Peacekeeper, the gunslinger hesitantly twists his finger before him.

“Um,  _ jefe _ ?” McCree starts “That’s not mine.”

Gabriel quirks a brow. “It’s got your initials on it.”

“Huh?” Carefully, McCree takes the piece of clothing, flipping the hood away so he can see the letters scrawled on the tag inside of the hoodie, the letters ‘J.M.’ meet his eyes. Gently refolding the item, he hands it back to Gabriel. “Sorry  _ jefe _ . It’s my initials but it ain’t mine.”

Cursing himself, Gabriel takes the clothing back before retreating to his rooms. Why does his blanket-fairy have to put him in awkward situations like this?

 

* * *

 

“Angela?”

“In here, Gabriel!” The doctor waved from a room down the hall.

Scratching his bed-head, Gabriel makes his way to the room. By the time he enters the threshold, Angela is sitting at her desk and sorting through samples gained from her latest experiments, slender fingers flicking through small transparent ziplock bags.

“Something you need Gabriel?” She asks, never once looking away from her work.

“Yeah, I um… is your department missing any blankets?”

The doctor immediately puts down the bags before turning to address Gabriel, one finger raised, no doubt to begin a small speech - either to defend herself or to tell him that no her department was not missing any blankets - but cuts herself off when she sees what he’s carrying.

“ _ Oh _ .”

Oh is right. Gabriel’s fairy godmother has done it again, and this time he’s (Gabriel’s pretty convinced at this point that it’s a ‘he’) managed to pillage the entire medical department’s blankets. He doesn’t know how his guardian does it, but he’d woken in an empty conference room to find himself nestled in a pile of blankets so comfortable, only the thought of facing an angry Angela had forced him to get up and take the blankets back.

“Um, thank you Gabriel.” Angela said, reaching forward to take the coverings. “If you find the culprit, could you…well…”

“Yell at him?” Gabriel asks “Sure.”

 

* * *

 

He sat awkwardly, his beanie pulled low over his eyes as he tried to look at anywhere but the greying woman sitting in front of him. He was going to get yelled at, Gabriel was sure of it.

“I didn’t touch your tea blends Ana, I swear.”

“Well somebody did,” The sniper huffs.

And Gabriel was the most likely culprit. Because he had fallen asleep in his office after finishing a stack of papers and woken up to a badly knitted shawl wrapped around his shoulders and one of Ana’s special brews steaming gently in his red cup.

“Look Ana, I--”

“Are you ever going to catch him?” She interrupts.

Mouth hanging open, Gabriel stares at the regal woman. “I’m sorry, what--”

“Are. You. Going. To. Catch. Him?” She asks once more, punctuating each word slowly and carefully as if Gabriel was some child that did not understand speech.

Sighing, he flops back in his chair, rubbing his hands down his face tiredly. “I’ll try Ana, he’s slippery but...I’ll try.”

It’s already been more than three decades since his blanket-fairy first put a coat around his shoulders. If Gabriel couldn’t catch him back then, he wasn’t about to catch him now. But at least, he has a better idea of who to talk to about it…

 

* * *

 

“Commander?” Gabriel asks, knocking on the wall of the huge office “You have a moment?”

“Gabe? Is that you?” The blond asks, looking up from a stack of papers. Overwatch’s poster boy looks the worse for wear, deep bags ring possessively around his eyes, his skin is paler than normal and he looks gaunt - for a supersoldier. “I always have time for you. What do you need?”

The Strike-Commander is standing, making his way around the giant desk to stand beside Gabriel. The Blackwatch Commander tries not to let his eyes roam over the haggard form of his superior, instead drawing himself up and folding his arms over his own armoured chest.

“You need to stop.” Gabriel starts.

“Stop?”

_ You need to stop giving me your coats and hoodies. You need to stop stealing blankets from Angela and all the other unfortunate souls living here. You need to stop taking from Ana’s tea collection and making me the best teas on this damn base. _

But all Gabriel said was.

“You need to rest.”

In hindsight, that was probably the worse way of telling someone that they needed to take a nap. Especially when the whole base began shaking, tearing itself apart, tremors and screams rocking the cement and steel pillars, fire bursting into being where it had no place to be. Gabriel’s yell was muffled as a body was thrown over his own, covering him from the suddenly caving ceiling.

When Gabriel finally came to, a body wrapped in a blue long coat lay haphazardly over him, a broken rebar punched right through the blond’s gut. Try as he might, Gabriel could not rouse him. Smoke gathering in his many cuts, his many bleeding scars, Gabriel screamed.

 

* * *

 

“You need to rest, and don’t give me that ‘you’ll rest when you’re dead crap’. It doesn’t work when you’re a wraith.”

“Wasn’t going to,” Gabriel, The Reaper, growled into his comm.

“Good,” Sombra said “So are you--”

“No.” He snapped.

Ignoring the hacker’s indignant reply, he pulled the comm from his ear before shadow-stepping down into the narrow street. Brandishing his twin shotguns at the thugs defending the payload, Gabriel quickly dispatched the rogues with efficient, powerful blasts to each of their chests. He was sluggish, or well, sluggish compared to when he first became the Reaper - courtesy of his lack of rest. Apparently having a foot in the grave doesn’t exempt him from the basic needs that keep any human body alive. Although he can now last longer, go further, heal faster, Gabriel still needs to rest to recharge and give his nanites a break. But, truth be told, he hasn’t been able to sleep properly since that fateful day. In one night, he had lost his ability to sleep anytime, anywhere, after all; why sleep if there’s nothing to look forward to when waking up? Might as well just stay awake, makes things easier.

Dodging a retaliation strike, Gabriel’s sluggish speed was still enough to deal with these second - no -  _ third _ rates. Arms spinning in a wide arc, his shotguns unloaded round after round of metal slugs at the thugs. The remaining men scattered, running for their lives from the Reaper prowling towards the payload. Satisfied that the last of his enemies had fled, Gabriel silently floated up to the hovertruck, one clawed hand raised to inspect the crates arranged neatly in the carriage. 

He will yell at himself later.

The screech at the end of the narrow street has Gabriel’s head whipping around to zero in on the mech lurching towards him much too quickly for his tastes. The first punch sends the wraith ghosting back from the payload, the second strike sends a pristine ray of white light lancing into the space he had just occupied. Snarling, Gabriel disintegrates, nanites pulsing in the cold night air, hoping to at least catch the large omnic off guard. The machine whirled, large arms pinwheeling through black smoke in an attempt to catch the Reaper. 

Materialising behind the mech, Gabriel unloads a full clip of shotgun rounds into the white carapace. For a moment the machine drops, falling to it’s knees, smoke spiralling from the hole in it’s back. Then it was lurching to its feet.

Before Gabriel could react, a great metal arm whips him right across the chest, sending him crashing into the wall of the narrow street. As he blacks out, he wonders who will take care of him now.

…

The first thing Gabriel notices when he wakes, is that it’s less painful than he anticipated. Blinking open blood red eyes, he finds himself propped up against a wall. A biotic emitter sat nearby, bathing him with it's soothing golden warmth.

Across his shoulders was laid a well-worn jacket.

Blue, red and white. It had the number ‘76’ splashed across it’s back.

Staggering to his feet, Gabriel grabbed the biotic canister from the floor before streaking down the street towards the sound of gunfire, the tacky jacket bellowing around his shoulders. 

A lone man was locked in combat with the mech, his usual red visor and mask is gone, knocked off in the fight, revealing a face permanently scarred by two large red scars. His hair, once a sunshine gold, is now as white as the moon, swaying with his every move. Hefting the great pulse rifle with little difficulty, the Soldier releases a trio of helix rockets from his weapon. The mech falters with the impact, a deep crater in it’s core, it tries to move - one step forward, before staggering back two, and falling.

The soldier watches, the gun, held in a single hand, hanging limp by his side. Silently, Gabriel approaches from behind. He hesitates, claws stretched in the air. There’s a lump in his throat he can’t quite get rid of, sweat under his gloves and an odd sensation that flutters in his chest. He should fold the jacket and leave it behind, just like he’s done so many times before. So, what’s changed?

_ I can’t bear the thought of waking up to nothing _ .

Black clad arms circle the soldier from behind, drawing the white haired man into a tight embrace. Before the soldier can protest, Gabriel buries his head in the familiar shoulder, amber and lavender assails his senses, his ivory owl-mask wisps away into the cold air.

“Gabe?”

“Don’t leave,” He whispers “Please... _ Jack _ .”

A gloved hand reaches up to pat his own clawed ones, a chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. Gabriel lifts his head from Jack’s shoulder to find beautiful blue eyes gazing into his own molten red, a shiver snakes down his spine, having nothing to do with the night’s chill.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jack assures him.

“Then… will you…” Gabriel swallows the lump in his throat, tightening his grip about the soldier as he mutters into the warm shoulder. “Will you stay with me while I sleep?”

The chuckle changes to full throaty laughter, Gabriel swore the air about Jack was glowing - truly, worthy of the title of being his fairy godmother. The soldier’s hands find his own, intertwining their fingers together and gripping them firmly, reassuringly.

“Of course, Gabe.” He murmurs “I’ve got you covered.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked it, hopefully with the conclusion of this, I'll be able to properly get back to finishing my big pieces.  
> (Provided that this writer's block goes away). I'll be trying out the Valentines week prompts as well so look forward to that \o/


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